Family is Everything
by adder574
Summary: Summary:  Secrets have a way of not staying hidden.  Now, with one of his sons fighting for his life, John has realized that family secrets must come to light, secrets that will change the Winchester family forever.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone you recgonize. I am not making any money, so please don't sue.

Rated PG for some language, but there is nothing worse than you would hear on the show.

Summary: Secrets have a way of not staying hidden. Now, with one of his sons fighting for his life, John has realized that family secrets must come to light, secrets that will change the Winchester family forever.

Chapter 1

"Mary Winchester," the receptionist called out across the crowded waiting room.

Mary Winchester picked up her purse and walked slowly across the room toward Dr. Tyler Oppen's consultation room, as if she were walking to her execution. If this went the way she feared it was going to, then maybe she was going to wish she was. John had offered to go with her, but she had told him it wasn't necessary. She didn't know why, this was just something she just wanted to face on her own.

Three years ago, Mary James had been the happiest girl in the world. She had been born and raised in Lawrence, a small town in Kansas. Her father, Mark, was a self-employed plumber and her mom, Frances, worked as her dad's assistant. She had been an only child and the apple of both her parents' eyes. She loved children, animals and books, and was currently studying to be an RN. She was at the top of her class in nursing school, and was only weeks away from graduation. She even had her dream job already lined up, a position at the local hospital, in the maternity ward.

Then one day, just after graduation, Mary and her best friend Kathy decided to take a trip for the weekend before they both started their new jobs, and the brake needed to be replaced in Mary's car. Every garage she'd called was booked solid except one. It was a garage that had just opened and Mary decided that she would just have to take the chance. It was chance she would never regret taking.

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John Winchester had also been born and raised in Lawrence, Kansas, the only child of Dean and Samantha Winchester. His mom was a stay at home wife and his father had been a mechanic. John himself, had just received his honorable discharge from the marines after being injured in Vietnam. He'd saved several lives when his platoon had been ambushed, and he had been awarded the Purple Heart.

John's father had passed away shortly after he'd come back from 'Nam and John missed him terribly, so in memory of his father, John had secured his mechanic's license and started a business with his childhood friend, Mike Guenther.

He'd been on duty alone when a young woman walked in, looking to get her breaks repaired. It had been a meeting that had changed John's life forever.

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The two had hit it off instantly. John had fallen in love with her from the moment that they had met and it had been the same with Mary. When she'd returned from her road trip, she and John had begun dating. They were married a year later and John had never seen anyone as beautiful as Mary when she walked down the aisle that day.

The newlyweds had decided right from the start that they wanted children, and more than one. The only thing both had wished for growing up was a brother or sister. They had wanted kids right away, but since they were both just starting out with a small, one bedroom apartment, and with things extremely tight financially, they reluctantly decided to wait a year.

There were several ups and downs in that year. John and Mary's best friends Kathy and Mike had also hit it off, and they were married shortly after the Winchesters' own wedding. Both had named the other couple as future god parents of each other's children and a couple of months later, when Kathy had announced that she was pregnant it, brought about a strong return of Mary's yearning for her own child.

John's mother had been in declining health since his father's death and she eventually passed away. It was rough, but John got through it with Mary's love and support. His mother had left them his childhood home and John and Mary had quickly moved in. Business at the garage was also picking up, Mary was working full time and they now had a good place to raise their child. They decided it was the perfect time to try for one.

A year later, they were still trying. John had gotten a full check up and was told there was no reason he couldn't have a child. Mary had made her own appointment and that's where she was today. At the doctor's office, waiting to hear if her dreams were about to shatter.

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No sooner had Mary walked into the office than the expression on the doctor's face gave her the answer she had been dreading.

"Mary, please have a seat," Dr. Oppen said as he gestured toward a chair with his hand.

"Thank you," Mary said politely as she took the offered seat. "Please just tell me," she pleaded.

"I wish I had better news, Mary," the doctor started and Mary immediately felt her eyes fill with tears that she desperately tried to keep at bay. "You have some old scar tissue on one of your ovaries. I'm afraid that the odds of you conceiving are less than 5 percent."

A few tears finally escaped, despite Mary's best efforts to hold them in. It was days like this that Dr. Oppen really hated his job. He knew how much having a child meant to this woman, he had worked with her on the maternity ward.

"It's not completely hopeless though, right?" she asked, trying to find some opening to allow hope to grow.

"No," Dr. Oppen said. "Nothing in medicine ever is, but you have to understand that even if by some miracle you do conceive, there is a high probability that you won't carry to term. I'm truly sorry, Mary. I know how much you love children, and I truly hate to have to give your this news," he added sincerely.

"It's not your fault," Mary said, her voice wavering.

"Have you and John ever considered adoption?" the doctor questioned. "I have some brochures that you should read." The doctor handed Mary the information and she absentmindedly put them into her purse without really hearing the doctor's words. She was just trying to keep her emotions at bay. She wanted out of there. What was she going to tell John? How was she going to explain this to him?

"You can come to me, Mary, if you want to talk about anything, or if you and John have any questions."

"I will, thank you," Mary said sincerely. She knew it wasn't the doctor's fault that her body was defective.

She managed to get home before the floodgates finally opened and she broke down, and that was how her husband found her about an hour later.

"Mary, I'm home," John called as he entered the house.

He was home early. He had known that Mary was getting the results of her tests back today. He had been relieved when his tests came back fine and John had desperately wanted to be there for his wife, but Mary wouldn't let him.

"Mary, he called out again when he didn't get an answer. He knew she was home, the Impala was in the driveway. He'd given her the car to use and said he'd catch a ride home with Mike.

He went to his bedroom to change and that was where he found Mary. Sprawled on their bed, sobbing.

John immediately ran forward and gathered her into his arms. "Are you hurt?" he asked fearfully.

"NNNOOOO!" Mary sobbed.

"It's okay, honey," John soothed. There was only one other explanation for Mary's hysterics. "We'll get through this." He repeated over and over.

He felt Mary cling to him tighter and a few tears slipped out of John's eyes as well, he hated to see his wife in pain. He had to admit that he was privately disappointed that Mary would never give birth to his child, but the only thing that mattered to him right now was his wife. She was his life and he loved her with all his heart and soul.

Finally, about an hour later, Mary had cried herself to sleep and John remained by her side until she woke up three hours later.

"I'm so sorry, John," she apologized to her husband once again.

"There's **_nothing_** to be sorry about. It's not your fault. There's nothing different you could have done."

"I feel like such a failure," Mary said as tears once again filled their eyes.

"You listen to me, Mary Anna Winchester, you are **_not _**a failure. There is nothing you could have done." He repeated.

"What about our dreams, John? You wanted a son. I can't give you that."

"Do you think that's the only thing I care about? I love you, Mary, I have from the minute I laid eyes on you. That's never going to change," John said trying to make his tone both gentle and firm. "Nothing's hopeless, Mary. In 'Nam, there was no way we should have survived that ambush, but we did. Never give up hope, Mary."

"Less than five percent, John. That's what the doctor said."

"See, less than five is not zero," John pointed out, trying to find some hope in the situation.

"He also said that even if I managed to conceive, there was a high probability that I won't carry to term," Mary said as she let the tears flow once again.

"High probability is not guaranteed," John said trying to see the glass as half full. "Look, you get some rest. I'll bring you a grilled cheese sandwich," he said as he named Mary's favourite food.

"I'm not hungry," she said, a touch of anger entering her voice. He didn't know what she was going through, he could never know. A nap and a sandwich were not going to change the fact that she couldn't do what every other woman on the planet could do.

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As the next several months passed by, things went down hill for the Winchesters. It seemed that they fought constantly over everything, even what to watch on TV turned into a major battle.

Mary's friend, Kathy, had given birth to a little girl and Mary couldn't bear it whenever Kathy brought her god daughter around. It reminded her too much of what she would never have. She had even thought about quitting her job since it was so hard to be around the babies. Mary had never been so miserable in her entire life.

One evening, she had been sitting and staring at the TV when she heard her husband call out to her.

"Mary, dinner's ready," John called from the kitchen.

"I'm not hungry," she snapped back as she continued to stare at the TV.

"You should eat. You're working backshift tonight. You need to keep your strength up."

"I'm not going," Mary stated firmly. "I was just getting ready to call off," she replied.

"You've already called off four times this month."

"I don't care," Mary snapped.

"Look, I know it's been rough..."

"Do you?" Mary questioned roughly. "I go in there and all I see is happy mothers who've given birth to healthy babies. I will never have that. **_Never!_** Do you know what that's like?"

"You don't think I hurt too?" John blurted out. "I see cars dropped off at the garage with car seats. Mothers and fathers with their children picking up the cars from the shop. You don't think that reminds me of what I may never have," John added before he could stop himself.

"I knew it," Mary replied icily.

"What?" John asked in confusion.

"You blame me," Mary accused.

"What... No, I don't. I never did."

"You do," Mary said refusing to be placated. "We both know it's me with the problem. You could go out and get some other girl pregnant tomorrow."

"I don't want to knock up any other girl, Mary. I love you. I want to be with you, whether we have children or not."

"I can never give you a child," Mary lamented.

"You blame me as well," John suddenly fired back, his temper getting the better of him.

"What are you talking about?" It was Mary's turn to be confused.

"You blame me for not being the one with the problem. You wanted it to be me, didn't you? Then you could lay the entire thing on my shoulders."****

"I HATE YOU!" Mary screamed at her husband. With that, she stormed out of the room and into their bedroom, locking the door. 

"You know what, Winchester?" John said out loud to the empty room. "You really can be an ass sometimes." With that, he went to try and talk to Mary, but she refused to answer the door.

Inside the bedroom, Mary was fuming, she couldn't believe the nerve of her husband. She glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly time to start getting ready for work. She really hated the place. What had been her dream job was quickly turning into a nightmare, but as her husband had said, she'd already called off four times this month. After the last time, she'd been called to her supervisor's office. He was sympathetic to her situation, but he told her that they needed someone they could rely on.

She personally didn't care if she got fired, but she and John weren't rich. They needed both incomes to get by and she knew that she couldn't afford to lose her job. She would go into work tonight as she needed to get away from her husband, but when she got off in the morning, she would go to her supervisor and request a transfer. She just couldn't stay in maternity any longer.

She was so glad that she had made the decision to go to into work that night because something happened that would change all their lives.

TBC

A/N: The format of this story will be a little different. It will alternate between the past and the present. Chapter 2 will take place in the present, and chapter 3 will go back to the past, and so on. They may not seem to connect at first, but I promise that they will. I would also like to thank Soar for once again being my beta reader and both Soar and Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for letting me bounce ideas off them when I first thought about writing this story.

As always, please read and review. It keeps the muse happy.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

Once again a huge thank you goes out to Soar, Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia

Present day.

"_**Dean," **_John called loudly from the doorway of the motel. "_**Get your ass out of bed. We have to get to the cemetery before sun up. Sam's already in the car. "**_

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Dean mumbled.

Dean forced his eyes open and looked around the room, trying to get his bearings. John had been contacted by someone he knew to rid their house of a spirit. John had accepted the job mainly because it was a paying gig, and Dean was really looking forward to finishing it. They had been working steadily for a while now and John had decided that they could use a small break, and he'd planned to make a stop in Atlantic City with the money they had earned. Between John and Dean's poker skills, they figured they'd win enough money to keep going for a while longer.

Looking forward to spending some downtime with his father and brother, Dean yawned, trying to shake off that tired feeling. He really hoped that he wasn't getting the flu, but it would be just his luck. He sat there for what he thought was only a minute when he heard his father's voice thunder down the hall once more.

_**"DEAN WINCHESTER, THIS IS THE THIRD TIME I'M CALLING YOU, IF YOUR ASS IS NOT IN THE CAR IN FIVE MINUTES,**__**WE'RE LEAVING WITHOUT YOU." **_

"_**I said I'm coming**_," Dean hollered back with as much strength as he could. He really wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed, but he knew that his family was counting on him so he grabbed his jeans, and threw on his shoes, shirt, and coat. He made it to the car in four minutes and thirty seconds.

While Dean was getting dressed, John had been sitting in the car with Sam. John couldn't help but feel increasing anxiety over his eldest son.

It had been four months since the night the semi had ploughed into Dean's beloved Impala. He and Sam had received minor wounds, but Dean had been seriously injured. Dean's doctor had said that he wasn't going to recover, that he would never come out of his coma.

As he had sat by the bedside of his eldest son, John had a lot of time to think. Sitting there, watching a vent push air in and out of his son's lungs, he couldn't help but think back to the time when Dean had been born. He had been premature and not expected to survive. Back then, he had defied the odds, and John was thoroughly convinced that Dean would manage it this time as well, but just in case, he had a back up plan. He'd had Sam contact Bobby to get him some supplies. He and his youngest son had gotten into an argument because Sam had suspected his father was going after the demon and John had just been glad that Sam hadn't realized what he was really planning. He was going to contact the demon and make a deal for Dean. He couldn't live without both his sons, they were his whole world.

Dean had managed to defy the odds once again, though. He emerged from the coma and his recovery was long and hard and they had stayed at Bobby's through most of it. It had been a real wake up call to John to realize just how close he had come to losing, not just Dean, but Sam as well. It was just pure luck that Sam hadn't been more seriously injured. He became determined to once again find a relationship with his boys.

John felt horribly guilty for everything he had said to Dean when he was possessed, and he wouldn't have blamed the boy if he never wanted to speak to him again, but Dean being Dean, forgave him, and John had rediscovered his relationship with his son over the rebuilding of the Impala. The two had spent long hours in Bobby's yard rebuilding the old girl. They couldn't just let her go, she had saved their lives.

With Sam, it had been harder. Sam had never had the mechanical skills of his dad and older brother, but John still made the effort. His youngest son was still angry over the fact that he had thought that his father was going to take off after the demon when Dean lay dying. Things were still rocky between them, but they had managed to be civil to each other for the most part, and they were slowly patching things up, mostly due to the one common interest they did have, Dean. They both knew how important family was to Dean and they had both made the effort to help his recovery.

The more time John spent around his sons, the more he realized just how much he needed them in his life. Dean was right. They were stronger as a family. Mary had a saying, family is everything, and John hadn't really realized what she'd meant until he was faced with the very real possibility of losing what was left of his. If they were going to have any chance of killing yellow eyes, they needed to work together as a family.

When Dean had fully recovered, the three Winchesters had hit the road. They made a formidable team and evil didn't stand a chance. They had taken out several spirits, demons, poltergeists, a wendigo, and even another tulpa, and John had been really impressed with Dean's ideas on how to take them out. They had been going non-stop though, and John was now wondering if maybe they had pushed too hard, too soon into Dean's recovery.

For the past two weeks, Dean hadn't been up to par. He'd seemed to be going to bed earlier in the evenings and sleeping later in the mornings, and even when awake, he seemed to move more slowly and tire more easily and John felt an ever growing concern over it. That was his real reason for suggesting a break. They just needed to get this job over and done with.

John snapped out of his thoughts and looked at his watch. They really needed to get a move on and John called out to eldest once again.

"Dad, maybe we should just let him sleep," Sam suggested after John had called his brother a third time. "This should be a routine salt and burn. We can handle it."

"He'd just get upset over that, Sam, and you know it. He'll be fine," John said trying to convince himself, but he was just as worried about Dean as Sam was.

Before either could say anything more, the object of their discussion came out of the motel room.

"'Bout time," Sam said when Dean got in the car.

"Shut up, Sammy," Dean grumbled.

"You shut up," Sam snapped back.

"Both of you shut up," John said firmly. "Or you're both running behind the car."

"Yes, sir," Sam and Dean said in unison.

At the cemetery, they quickly headed for the grave they'd already identified in their research. John immediately pulled rank with a wicked grin and said that he would take lookout while his sons dug.

John kept a close eye on his eldest son while the grave was dug up. He didn't fail to notice that Dean's movements were sluggish, much like he was moving through water. He didn't know why, but this was causing John's worry over his eldest to increase. He just wanted this job finished. He decided to give his son a break.

"Dean, get out of there. At the rate you're going, it'll be mid afternoon before you're done," John said sharply and winced. He hadn't meant for it to come out like that. "Here, take this," he said and went to hand him the rock salt gun.

"I would have slacked off too if it would have gotten me out of digging," Sam piped in.

Dean just scowled. He really hated feeling like this. He went to hand his dad the shovel in exchange for the gun, as he knew it would do no good to argue, when he caught his hand on a rough edge. "Ouch," he cried.

"Does it need stitches?" John asked as he spotted the blood dripping from Dean's torn flesh.

"No, it's not deep. It's just a scratch," Dean said honestly.

"Good, keep watch," John ordered.

John kept glancing up at his son, watching as Dean patrolled the area around the grave where he and Sam were digging. John could tell that Dean was fading fast and he renewed his efforts to get this job over and done with. He quickly became alarmed when he saw Dean stop by a tree and reach his arm out as if to steady himself. He started debating with himself about whether or not he should take Dean to a doctor. ERs and clinics asked too many questions though, so he decided to wait and see how Dean was feeling after their downtime.

A short time later, they reached the coffin. John looked up to ask Dean to bring the salt and lighter fluid when he realized that his son was now sitting on the ground, leaning against the tree, sound asleep. It scared John badly and when he was scared, it manifested as anger, and he felt himself losing control of his temper.

"_God damn it,"_ he growled.

"Dad, what is it?" Sam asked and looked in his father's direction, and saw what his father was looking at.

"I swear I'm..."

"Dad, don't," Sam said. He knew his father was furious and he didn't want his father taking his temper out on his brother. Sam hadn't missed what was going on with Dean either. "You know he wouldn't do this on purpose. I'll go talk to him."

"Samuel, you'll finish digging. I'm going to get your brother. That's an order," John said sounding like a drill sergeant.

"We're not kids anymore," Sam snapped. He was sick of his father treating him like he was still 4.

"You want to do this now, Sam?" John asked in disbelief. They were in the middle of a hunt, his eldest had decided it was a good time to take a nap, and his youngest had decided to pick a fight with him.

"No," Sam agreed. He just wanted to finish this.

"Wait here," John ordered. He stalked over to where his eldest was sleeping. _**"DEAN WINCHESTER,**__**WHAT IN THE HELL HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU?**_" John yelled loud enough to wake the dead.

Dean startled awake. It didn't take him long to read the situation and figure out why his father was so pissed. "I'm sorry, dad, I didn't mean to," he tried to apologize. God, he was such a screw up. Sammy could have been killed, his dad could have been killed.

"Damn it, Dean, Sammy or I could have been hurt," John said as if he had read Dean's thoughts. "If you were sick, you should have said something. You know you don't hunt if you can't hack it," John berated his son.

"I'm sorry, dad. I promise, it won't happen again," Dean said trying to make things right.

"You're damn right it won't, give me that," John said as he grabbed the shotgun from Dean's hand. "Go wait in the car."

"But, dad," Dean protested. In all his years of hunting, he'd never been told to go wait in the car.

"Don't but dad me, young man. You heard me. You're useless to me when you're like this."

"Yes, sir," Dean mumbled and walked back to the Impala and got in the passenger seat, all the time wishing he was back in his coma, then he couldn't disappoint anybody.

Sam paused in his actions as he heard his father rake his brother over the coals. Sure, he had screwed up, but he didn't deserve what had just happened.

Sam didn't say anything though. He didn't trust himself to speak to his father right now. Instead, he bust through the coffin lid and then hoisted himself out of the hole he'd helped to dig. John then came back to the grave side and finished the job. John was already beating himself up over how he had handled the situation, but he knew he couldn't change it now. He wasn't really sure what to say to his son, and was slightly relieved that Dean was asleep when they returned to the Impala.

"Dad," Sam said firmly. "Don't wake him. I don't care how much you or he protests, I'm dragging his ass to a clinic tomorrow. This isn't normal."

"Sam, look, I'm sorry I lost my temper, it's just that you could have been killed..."

"You know what, dad, Dean could have been killed too, but I guess you just forgot to mention that," Sam stated.

"Alright, I said I don't want to do this, but I am in agreement about dragging Dean to a clinic tomorrow."

Sam was glad his father agreed, but it also increased his worry, if John was agreeing to a doctor's visit, he suspected it was something serious.

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Sam reluctantly woke his brother when they got back to the motel. Dean was silent as he dragged himself into their room and he immediately went back to sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Sam cleaned and bandaged Dean's cut and took note of the fact that it was still bleeding. His own dreams that night were filled with phantoms trying to tear him away from his brother.

The following morning, Dean was actually the first to awake. He pulled himself into a sitting position and took several deep breaths when he was stuck by a wave of dizziness. He looked over at his sleeping brother and father and thanked a god he wasn't sure he believed in that they hadn't been hurt. _No thanks to me though,_ _he thought bitterly._

He decided to go for coffee, hoping the caffeine would give him a jolt of energy to get through the day and get rid of his headache. He couldn't believe he was still tired.

He grabbed the Impala's keys, scribbled a note for his family, telling them where he as going and left. He returned about a half hour later.

"Hey, son," John greeted him as he entered the motel room.

"Hey, Dean," Sam added his own greeting.

Dean immediately knew they were up to something and he had a feeling that whatever it was, he wasn't going to like it. "Coffee," he said as a peace offering.

"Dean, I need to talk to you," John said as he accepted the coffee.

"I'm sorry, dad. I screwed up last night. I promise not to do it again," Dean tried to apologize.

"It's not about that. After breakfast, we're going to a clinic. I want you to have a check up," John explained.

"I'm fine," Dean immediately protested, as John knew he would.

"You're not," John insisted. "Don't, Dean," John cut him off when he went to protest again. "This isn't up for negotiation."

"Yes, sir," Dean said with no sincerity. He knew there was no changing his father's mind. He tried to eat his breakfast, but he'd lost his appetite. He hated doctors.

There was no clinic in town, so John and Sam took Dean to the ER at the local hospital. It was crowded and the three Winchesters settled in for a long wait.

Two hours and two threats about tying him to a chair later, Dean finally heard the doctor call his assumed name. "Dean Colt," the doctor called.

He got up and followed the doctor. John offered to go with him, but Dean just snapped that he wasn't a little kid.

The doctor, who introduced himself as Dr. Pickens, asked Dean to sit on the gurney. The exam was pretty much what Dean had expected. He checked Dean's temperature, his blood pressure, and listened to his lungs and heart. Then he took some blood samples.

"I'll be right back, Mr. Colt," Dr. Pickens said. "I just want to send these to the lab."

"Can't I go," Dean asked.

"Wait here, I'll be back soon," the doctor said ignoring the question.

Dean lay back against the gurney and tried to fight the fatigue that washed over him. He swore that more than an hour passed by while he was waiting for the doctor. It took so long that his father and brother wandered back to make sure he was still there and hadn't slipped out a side door.

"Hi, sorry, I took so long," Dr. Pickens said when he finally showed up.

"Can I leave now?" Dean said in an exasperated tone.

"Sorry, but I want to admit you," he said.

"Oh, hell, no," Dean protested sharply.

"Doctor, what's going on?" Sam asked.

The doctor looked at Dean to make sure it was okay to discuss his medical condition in front of the two other men. Dean nodded.

"You're suffering from anaemia," Dr. Pickens said. "That's when your blood count's too low. That's why you're having trouble clotting," he explained and pointed to Dean's cut, which was still bleeding. "It's also why you're so tired. So I want to admit you and give you a transfusion."

"Can't I just eat some more green stuff?" Dean inquired.

Sam snorted, he couldn't help it. He didn't think Dean had ever eaten anything green in his life out of free will. Dean just glared at him.

"Can't you just do that here?" John asked. He wanted to put this town behind them.

"We could, but the fact is that while the transfusion will take care of the anaemia, we need to run a few more tests to find out what caused it, to make sure there's not an underlying problem. I'd like to have Dr. Scott, our resident haematologist, look over Dean's blood work."

"If I say no?" Dean asked. He didn't want to stay here. He hated hospitals and needles with a passion.

"You can go if you sign an AMA form, but I wouldn't recommend it," Dr. Pickens cautioned.

"He's not going anywhere," John informed the doctor and glared at his son.

"Right, just checking," Dean said meekly as he gave in.

The doctor had Dean sign the permission form for the transfusion and got it started. Then he told Dean he'd be back after he had made arrangements to have him transferred to a room.

Dean finally let sleep take him as the blood flowed gently into his body and John and Sam looked at each other, both thinking the same thing.

"Do you think it's anything serious?" Sam asked his father worriedly.

"I really hope not," John said, his tone full of concern. Dean had been through so much already, he really didn't need this, none of them did.

TBC

Please remember to press that little button that says submit review. I'm not to proud to beg if I have to and most importantly it keeps my muse happy.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

A big thanks to Soar, Sinead-Conlan, and JuliaAurelia for their help with this chapter.

January 24, 1979

Mary say at the front desk in the maternity ward, filling out her transfer papers. She was going to hand them in to her supervisor after her shift, she just couldn't take maternity anymore. All that was needed was to fill in the area she wanted to transfer to and her signature. She signed her name and hesitated over what unit she wanted, not sure of where to go. Before Mary had a chance to really think about it, there was a commotion that caused her to look up.

A young girl had just burst through the door. "HELP! PLEASE HELP!" she cried out.

Mary reacted instantly, grabbing a wheelchair and approaching the young girl. Mary could clearly tell that she was scared and obviously pregnant, clutching at her swollen belly. Mary walked slowly, so as not to startle the girl. She gently asked the young woman to have a seat in the wheel chair. The girl sank into the chair and grabbed her stomach. "IT HURTS," she moaned.

Mary leaned down so that she was at eye level with the girl. "Its okay, hun," she said soothingly. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Mmaanddyyy," she stammered. "Mmandddy NNeewtton."

"Hi, Mandy, I'm Mary. I promise to take real good care of you, okay?" she said gently.

"Can you make the pain go away? It feels like I'm being split in two," Mandy said roughly, pain clearly evident in her voice.

"It's normal. How far along are you?" Mary asked.

"Seven months," Mandy answered.

Mary knew it was way too soon for this baby to be born. She told the other nurse on duty to page the doctor and she got Mandy into a room and settled into bed. She really hoped the doctor showed up soon because upon examination, Mary realized that Mandy's waters had broken and she knew that there was no way to stop the labour now. If the baby survived it's birth, it would have an uphill battle.

"How old are you Mandy?" Mary asked trying to keep the young girl distracted.

"19," Mandy replied.

"Do you want me to call your parents?"

"No, they kicked me out for being a slut. Tried to make me go live with the nuns," she said bitterly.

"What about your boyfriend?" Mary inquired.

"NO!" Mandy cried emphatically. "He said he loved me and that he wanted me to prove it to him. I did and look what happened. After he found out, he called me a slut too. Said there was no way the baby could be his, but it is. I know it is. Tony is the only guy I ever did it with," Mandy said sounding close to tears. "I mean…" Mandy stopped suddenly and again wrapped her arms around her stomach. "_**OW!**_ God, get this thing out of me."

"Easy, Mandy, you're having a contraction. Breathe with me, okay? In, out, in, out," Mary coached.

Mandy let Mary talk her through. "Can't you just knock me out until it's over," she begged.

"I have to wait and see what the doctor says," Mary explained. "Can you tell me who your doctor is?"

"I don't have one," Mandy said.

"What do you mean?" Mary asked in confusion.

"I didn't see a doc. I didn't want anyone to know I was pregnant. Little shit already cost me Tony. So I hid, I didn't eat much so I wouldn't gain weight. Then my mom noticed how I'd changed one day and figured it out. She called me a slut and sent me to the nuns. I hated it there so I ran away. I didn't get far when my stomach started to hurt, so I came here."

"So you haven't seen a doctor since you got pregnant?" Mary asked in a worried tone.

"Nope. I wouldn't have come here either if it didn't hurt so god damn much," Mandy said.

Mary felt her emotions rise, she would have given anything to get pregnant and here was this girl acting like it was a curse. She couldn't believe how unfair life was. She was glad when the doctor finally showed up. She was on the verge of saying something she would regret.

The doctor quickly examined Mandy and confirmed Mary's earlier thoughts. There was no stopping the labour, Mandy was going to have to deliver. Mary said a quick prayer to have an angel watch over the baby. It was going to need all the help it could get.

Fortunately, it was a slow night, and for the next eight hours, Mary was able to stay by Mandy's side and coach her through labour.

"It shouldn't be long now," Mary said reassuringly after she gave Mandy another examination.

"Thank god. Maybe now my life can go back to normal."

"Are you planning on giving the baby up for adoption?" Mary asked.

"I don't care what happens to it. I just want my life back," Mandy stated forcibly.

Mary couldn't stop the look of horror that came over her face. How could anyone think of a child like that? "A child is a gift from God," she snapped back. She couldn't help it.

"A gift," Mandy said disbelievingly. "Ever since that night with Tony, my life's gone to hell. Tony doesn't talk to me anymore. My parents practically disowned me. My friends all hate me, and every boy in school keeps asking me out because they think I'm easy. How's that a gift, you tell me?"

"I understand it's not easy, but remember that baby did nothing wrong..."

"Are you saying I did?" Mandy said accusingly.

"No," Mary said quickly. "I don't think you did anything wrong, I'm simply pointing out that your child didn't either."

Mandy softened. She did like Mary, the nurse was the first person that had been nice to her in a long time. "I just want my life back," she lamented.

"Do you want me to contact social services for you, so you can legally put the child up for adoption?"

"I told you, I don't really care. Just...Oh, LORD..." Mandy cried and clutched her stomach as another contraction hit her.

Mary knew this was it and quickly paged the doctor. Dr. Oppen came with Dr. Tyler, who worked in the neonatal ICU. There was also an incubator standing by, ready to transport the child as soon as it was born.

Mary stayed by Mandy's side for the whole delivery and an hour later, the child entered the world.

"It's a boy," Dr. Oppen said and before Mary or Mandy even laid eyes on the child, he was handed to Dr. Tyler and whisked away.

"It's over Mandy. Great job," Mary praised the young woman.

"Thank goodness. I never want to go through that again in my life," Mandy stated firmly.

"You get some rest. Oh, by the way, is there a certain name you have picked out?"

"I don't care," Mandy said again. She closed her eyes, rolled over and went to sleep.

Mary helped clean up and filled out the paper work and when she was done, it was time for her break. She found herself drawn to the neonatal unit. She walked over to the incubator that held baby boy Newton, as he was being referred to for the time being.

He weighed a mere 3 pounds 1 ounce and he was on a ventilator for his underdeveloped lungs. There were monitor leads all over his tiny body, IVs in his arm, leg and head, an extremely tiny blood pressure cuff on his other arm, a feeding tube in his left nostril, and an ID bracelet on his other ankle. There wasn't a spot on him that didn't have some kind of tube or lead. You could hardly see the baby through it all and yet, Mary thought he was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

She quickly donned a pair of gloves, put her hand into the incubator, and lightly stroked the baby's head, being careful of the IV. "Hi little one," she said gently. "I'm Mary. I know you can hear me and I want to say that I know the battle you're facing. The odds against you right now are so overwhelming that no one here expects you to survive, but guess what, little one, I'm not one of them. If I was a betting woman, I'd put all my money on you. I'll come see you everyday, and I'll fight for you. You just have to promise me that you'll fight for yourself, okay? You have an angel watching over you and I just know you're going to be fine," she finished with conviction.

"Hey, Mary," another nurse came over to where she was standing.

"Hi, Roberta," Mary said to her friend.

"Can I get in there for a second, I have to give him his feeding," she requested.

Mary reluctantly moved aside. "Poor fella," Roberta said. "I was just in talking to his mother and she won't come to see him. I guess it's for the best, though. Little tyke probably won't make it through the night."

"Premies are a lot tougher than people give them credit for. I think this little one may surprise you," Mary said firmly.

"Mary, don't get attached to him," Roberta cautioned. She knew how much her friend wanted a child and she hoped that losing this baby wouldn't do more harm than good. "You know the odds, given the lack of medical care his mother had, and his birth weight. Even if by some miracle he does survive, he's most likely going to have physical and mental problems. It may be a blessing if he goes peacefully."

Mary felt her temper flare up. Why was everyone so quick to think the worst? She refrained from saying anything because she knew her friend was just trying to protect her. "I know all that, but I just feel so sorry for him," she replied.

"Me too," Roberta admitted after a moment of thought.

Mary glanced at her watch and realized that she had to get back to work. Roberta told Mary that she would talk to her later and went to attend another baby. Mary turned back to the incubator. "I'll see you soon, little one. Remember what I said."

Mary went back to the maternity ward and finished her shift. She checked on Mandy and gave her an update on her son, then she called social services and they said they would send someone as soon as they could. When she got off, she didn't go straight home but went to check on the little boy instead. He was still hanging in there. _He really needs a name, Mary thought._

She thought about it all the way home. This baby wasn't the first they'd had born to a teenage mother who wanted nothing to do with her child. Mary couldn't figure out why this little boy had made his mark on her so quickly. She was determined to come up with a name, though. The usual policy on the neonatal ward was to name or nickname the baby, but she guessed it was because no one expected him to make it, and that thought saddened her greatly.

_Paul, Terry, Trevor, Mark, Steven, Douglas, no,__none of those sounded right. _

When, Mary got home, she found a huge bouquet of flowers on the table, with a note attached that said simply_ 'I'm sorry'_. Mary forgave John on the spot. She was in a good mood for the first time in a long time. She couldn't wait until her husband got home.

Mary went upstairs, more names running through her head, yet none of them sounding quite right. She lay down and caught a few hours sleep. When she awoke, she took a quick shower. When she got downstairs, she immediately got her coat and boots, she wasn't on that day, but something was drawing her back there.

She went directly to the NICU and found that the baby was in the middle of it's first crisis, his blood pressure was too low. He had a doctor by his incubator giving orders. Tammy, the nurse, was carrying them out.

"Hi, Mary," Dr Tyler said.

"Morning, Adam," Mary greeted him. "How's the little guy doing?" she inquired worriedly.

"We've given him medication to help his blood pressure, but it's just wait and see at this point. There is nothing more we can do for him."

"Have you told his mother?"

"She left," Adam informed her.

"What do you mean?" Mary asked in confusion. They wouldn't discharge someone so soon after giving birth.

"I mean, she left. We were in the delivery room and she slipped out. Just took her stuff and left.'

Mary was in a state of shook over that. How could someone abandon their child? "I know you must be busy, I'll sit with him if you have other stuff to do," Mary offered, trying to get her emotions in check.

"Thanks, I'd appreciate it," Adam said gratefully. "It's a busy morning."

When Adam walked away, Mary scrubbed up, gloved up, and put her hands in the incubator, again lightly stoking the baby's bald head. They'd shaved the small amount of sandy blond hair that he'd been born with to accommodate the IV. "Hey, little one, remember what we talked about yesterday? You have to fight," she encouraged. She continued with the small talk, while still running through names in her head.

Then she thought back to a few months ago, when she and John had been discussing names for their own child.

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_A Few months ago._

"How about Aaron?" John suggested as he read the first name in the baby name book. "It could work for a girl too."

"Aaron or Erin Winchester. It sounds nice. What about..." she grabbed the book and opened it to a random page. "Winston," she suggested.

"Winston Winchester," John said trying it out.

"Guess not," Mary said with a giggle.

They passed the book back and forth and made suggestions, neither really finding a name that they liked. Mary finally took the book and threw it across the room.

"What was that for?" John asked in surprise.

"I want our child's name to mean something and I know that you want the name Dean somewhere if we have boy, after your father. Family is everything, John, and I want to give that to my kids. If we have a girl, we're going to name her Samantha Frances, after your mom and mine."

"It's perfect, Mary. My mom would have loved it. What about a boy? Mark Dean, after your dad and mine."

"No, I'd rather use my maiden name as his first name and your father's name as a middle name. I was named after my father, they just substituted the K for a Y. I know that dad would probably like to see his name continue."

John burst out laughing.

"What?" Mary said in an almost hurt tone.

"Sorry, Mary, I didn't mean to laugh at your suggestion. I was laughing at the fact that that gives our son a name of James Dean Winchester."

Mary couldn't help but chuckle as well. "I love it," she said. "It's the perfect name for our son."

"Just remember that when he's 16 and sneaking in late after breaking curfew and you can't chew him out with a straight face."

Mary laughed again and leaned over and kissed her husband. "Let's get started on our family. I can't wait to meet James or Samantha," she said with a wild glint in her eye.

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"Mary, hey, Mary, earth to Mary," she heard a voice calling her and she came back to the present.

"Hey, Tammy, sorry. I was just thinking about something."

"I just wanted to say, I think you have the magic touch," Tammy said and pointed to the monitors.

Mary couldn't help but grin when she saw that the baby's blood pressure had returned to normal. "He's a fighter," Mary said firmly.

"He is," Tammy agreed. "A real rebel, I'd say."

"What did you say?" Mary said.

"I said he's a real rebel," Tammy repeated patiently.

"Yeah, you sure are..." Mary paused. "Dean," she finished.

"What did you call him?" Tammy inquired.

"Dean, after James Dean. It fits, don't you think?"

"Like a glove," Tammy agreed. "I have to examine Dean. If you want to get a coffee, I should be done in about ten minutes."

Mary agreed that sounded like a good idea. She ran for some coffee and she decided to stop by maternity to get her schedule for next week. She saw the transfer paper she had left sitting on the desk. She was about to throw it out but then she stopped. She sat down and filled in the blank on where she wanted to transfer to, neonatal ICU. Dean needed her.

Remember that little purple button and review. I'm still not to proud to beg and it will keep the muse happy.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

AN: Sorry for the delay in this chapter, I was travelling for work. Once again thank you to Soar, JuliaAurelia and Sinead-Conlan for all their help.

Dean awoke early the next morning, stretched and looked around the room, trying to get his bearings. He realized that he was in a hospital and just how badly he had screwed up the night before came rushing back, along with feelings of self loathing. He was glad to see that the IV was gone, but it was disconcerting to realize that the IV needle was still in the back of his hand.

He had to admit, though, that he felt much more human. His energy was back and he felt great. Now he just needed to get his release papers and get sprung from this hell hole. He reached over and pressed his call button to page a nurse or doctor. He hated the fact that nurses had been coming in all night, waking him to take blood and tell him to get some rest. How was he supposed to rest if they kept waking him up? Demons he got. People were just crazy.

"You rang," he heard a nurse address him a few minutes later.

"Can you get my discharge papers? I want to get out of here," Dean stated.

"The doctor wants to speak with you first, Mr. Colt," the nurse replied. "He'll be around later this morning."

"Well get the AMA forms then. I have things to do," Dean said impatiently.

"No, we'll wait for the doctor," a new voice from behind the nurse called out. Dean looked over her shoulder and saw his father and brother entering the room.

"Dad!" Dean protested.

"Sam, can you go to the cafeteria and grab us some coffee? I need to speak to your brother."

Sam instantly felt his temper flare, he really hated being dismissed. If if there was something going on, he wanted to be there. Not to mention the fact that he didn't trust his father not to get on Dean's case about what had happened the night before. Sam knew his brother and he had a feeling that Dean was beating himself up about it enough. John wouldn't do anything deliberately, but he often didn't think before he spoke and could easily make it worse. He also knew that it would do no good to protest. "Fine," he huffed and walked out of the room. The nurse followed.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I know I messed up last night, and you and Sam could have been killed. I promise, I'll make it up to you." Dean tried the old trick of apologising first.

"No, son, I'm the one who's sorry. Yes, you screwed up, there's no denying that. If you were sick, you should have said something, but you could have been killed too. I almost lost you and your brother after the car accident and if I had, I wouldn't have wanted to go on. I know I don't always show it, but you and your brother are my reason for getting up in the morning."

Dean turned his head to the side, unable to look his father in the face. "You could have lost Sam last night, dad, and it would have been my fault. How can you stand..."

"James Dean Winchester," John said firmly and tried to keep the grin that usually tried to break through whenever he said his son's full name. He usually avoided it for reasons like this. Mary could do it, but it was something he'd never been able to master. "I don't want to hear you put yourself down. When you make a mistake, you own up to it and you learn from it, understand?" he said firmly.

"Yes sir," Dean said as his hands suddenly became fascinating. "Now can we get out of here?"

"After the doctor checks you out," John replied.

"But dad," Dean immediately protested. "I think they're vampires. They were taking blood from me all freakin' night. You want to subject your son to that risk?"

"I'll take my chances," John said with a grin.

"Look, they even made it easier for them to get at me," Dean said and held up his hand with the IV needle in it. How long do I gotta be here?" Dean sulked.

"We'll see what the doctor says," John said trying to maintain his patience. Dean was never a good patient.

Sam returned and greeted his brother and Dean immediately tried his argument on Sam, who for once sided with their father. He wanted to make sure there was nothing seriously wrong with his brother. He'd spent some time on the internet, researching Dean's symptoms, and after a few hits, he'd shut the computer off, unable to read anymore. One of the common links was some type of blood cancer and Sam was not willing to admit that his brother could be that sick.

"Good morning all," a new voice greeted them.

"Morning, doc," Dean said. "You got my release papers?" he asked hopefully. John and Sam just shook their heads at Dean's one track mind.

"No, sorry," the doctor replied. "Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Dr. Greg Scott, the resident haematologist. Dr. Pickens called me to have a look at your initial blood work and I want to hold you here for a few more days to run some more tests. I just need you to sign this form," Dr. Scott said as he handed Dean a clipboard with a standard waiver form on it.

"No way," Dean snapped. "I feel fine. I just want to go home."

"Dean," John said trying to sound both gentle and firm at the same time. "Just sign it. The faster they do their tests, the faster you can go home, alright?"

"No," Dean snapped as he leant back on his pillow and threw the clip board on the bedside table. He knew he was just postponing the inevitable. Nobody ever listened to him anyway, so why should this be any different?

"Do you suspect anything?" Sam asked fishing for answers.

"It's really too soon to say anything," Dr. Scott said, giving the standard answer Sam had expected.

"I feel fine," Dean repeated. It was him they were talking about, why care that he didn't want these tests.

"That's from the transfusion," Dr. Scott explained. "We need to determine if your anaemia was caused by an underlying problem though, because if it was, then your symptoms are going to come back."

"I can refuse," Dean said and crossed his arms over his chest.

"It would be unwise, Mr. Colt," Dr. Scott cautioned.

John reached over and put a hand on Dean's arm. "Dean, don't be difficult, please. Let Dr. Scott do these tests. He wouldn't be recommending them if he didn't feel you needed them." He found himself wishing Dean were 17 rather than 27. If he was, they wouldn't be having this argument, John would have just signed the form.

"Let me talk to him for a minute," Sam said. He had a sure fire way to get Dean to sign the form, but he hated himself for resorting to it. He was going to try reasoning with his brother first, but if that didn't work, he was pulling out the big guns.

"Okay son," John agreed. He gestured to the doctor to follow him into the hallway.

"Okay Dean, why don't you want these tests? I know you hate hospitals, but..."

"You just answered your own question, Sammy," Dean interrupted.

"I know you, Dean, you're my brother so tell me what's going on," Sam asked.

"And if I don't?" Dean inquired.

"Then I'll just keep asking until you do," Sam said, reverting to little brother tactics, and then he turned his puppy dog eyes on his brother.

"Dad," Dean said softly. He could never resist the puppy dog eyes. They should be registered as lethal weapons.

"What about him?" Sam asked in surprise. That wasn't what he had been expecting.

"You, me and dad are together again. I don't know for how long and I don't want him to go away. If I'm laid up here, what's to stop him from going after the demon?"

The admission floored Sam and he berated himself for not thinking of it himself. The only wish Dean had in life was for the three of them to be a family again and after the crash, that wish had come true. Dean was terrified of something screwing that up.

"Dean, we are a family, no matter what," Sam said firmly. He was truly unsure of how to reply to Dean's statement because he honestly wasn't sure if their father would stick around. They were hunting for the demon, would his father give that up if Dean were here for any length of time? "Dad seems different since the crash," he offered.

"But you don't know, do you? You can't guarantee that he'll stay," Dean said sadly.

"No, Dean, I don't, but I'll be here. I promise you that, no matter what," Sam said sincerely, trying to give his brother some reassurance.

"Thanks, Sammy," Dean replied.

"Now, will you sign the form," Sam asked.

"No," he said stubbornly.

Sam really wanted to smack his brother. It was time to bring out his secret weapon and he really hated himself for doing it, because it could do more harm than good. "You need these tests, Dean. How are you going to protect me and Dad if you can't even stay awake?"

Sam could see all the fight leave his brother as the words sunk in. The guilt hit him full force at the same time. He knew Dean was still upset with himself over what had happened. He watched as Dean angrily grabbed the clipboard and scribbled his name. Task completed, Dean slammed the board back on the table and rolled over onto his side, toward the wall.

"Sorry, Dean," Sam said softly as he went to the door to call his father back into the room.

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For the next three days, Dean was x-rayed, scanned, poked and prodded. Every inch of him was examined in some way, leaving him feeling like a bug under a microscope. He'd also had numerous blood tests, leaving him feeling like a pin cushion. This, of course, caused Dean to become crankier and more uncooperative by the day.

He nearly blew a gasket when they came and told him that the results were inconclusive and that they wanted to perform a bone marrow biopsy, wondering why the hell they had put him through all that, and couldn't have just done the biopsy from the start? When the doctor explained that they wanted to stick a needle into his hip bone and look at some of his bone marrow, he put his foot down. No way were they doing that to him, they had done enough. This led to an argument between the three Winchesters and left Dean wondering exactly how he had come to be lying on a gurney in an examination room, waiting for the doctor to start torturing him. At least his dad was with him. It was the only way Dean would agree to sign the consent form.

"Okay, Dean, what I need you to do is roll over onto your side with your back facing me and curl your legs up chest. "Mr. Colt, if you want to stay up by his head, that's fine."

Dean wanted to protest, but he knew it would do no good, so he rolled over and did as the doctor had asked.

John watched his son and it was a testament to just how nervous his eldest was feeling when he failed to make a comment about the fact that he was literally mooning the doctor and a good looking nurse. He took Dean's hands in his own and tried to offer some silent comfort to his son.

Dr. Scott draped a sheet over Dean that covered him, but had a small opening on his hip where the doctor would insert the needle. "Alright, Dean, I have to clean the area, so this may feel a little cold," he explained.

Dean flinched slightly as he felt the doctor rub an alcohol pad over the spot. _A little cold, yeah right, where did they store that stuff, Antarctica?_

"Now, what I'm going to do is numb the area with some lidocaine. What you're going to feel is a sharp prick and a burning sensation," Dr. Scott explained.

Again, John watched as the doctor injected the medicine into Dean's hip. He saw his son scrunch up his face a couple of times, but John knew that Dean was used to lidocaine. He'd had stitches numerous times before, it was something you got used to as a hunter.

After about 10 minutes, when Dean was good and numb, the doctor continued. "Now, what we're going to do is insert the aspiration needle into your hip bone. What you're going to feel is pressure more than pain. This is going to be uncomfortable though," Dr. Scott explained the next step of the procedure.

John couldn't help but glance at what the doctor was doing. He saw the doctor holding a large needle, pressing it into Dean's hip with a lot of force. John knew that it had to go right into the bone itself. He looked over at Dean again. Dean gave a couple of small grunts, but he didn't seem to be in a tremendous about of pain, for which John was thankful.

"Okay, for the last part, we have to draw out the marrow. Unfortunately, we can't freeze this part of the bone, so this will hurt, Dean. It's okay to shout, or scream, but I need you to stay as still as possible, okay?"

Dean nodded his consent. He looked at his father, trying not to glance at the needle. He knew that if he saw it, he was going to freak out.

"Alright, Dean, here goes," Dr. Scott said as he pulled back on the needle to draw out some marrow.

Dean tried to brace himself for the pain, but he couldn't ever have prepared himself for what he felt. It was excruciating and he was doing all could, fighting every instinct he had, to pull away. He guessed he wasn't doing a very good job when the nurse hollered, "Dean, stay still!" He felt the grip of the nurse and his father tighten on him, holding him in place.

"Easy, Dean," John said, trying to sooth his son.

"Dad, make them stop," Dean said, almost begging. Then to his embarrassment, he felt his eyes well up with tears and despite his best efforts to keep them at bay, he felt a few leak out anyway.

"It's almost done," John said, hoping it was true and hating himself for not being able to take away his son's discomfort. He had no idea if the doctor was almost done or not.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only about 20 seconds, the doctor finally announced, "All done."

Dr. Scott left shortly afterward, saying he needed to get Dean's sample to the lab. The nurse cleaned the area and then bandaged the puncture site, adding a warning for Dean to try and lie still for a bit to prevent bleeding at the puncture site.

"Dad," Dean said to his father as he swiped angrily at his eyes, trying to pretend he hadn't cried.

"Yeah, buddy?" John said using Dean's childhood nickname. He knew he had to ignore the tears although he hated himself for it. He wanted to say something that would offer Dean any type of comfort, but he had no idea how.

"They're not doing that again. Never again. I don't care what's wrong," Dean said weakly.

John wished that he could promise Dean that it wouldn't happen again, but he knew that he couldn't, so he did what Winchesters always do when they don't want to deal with something, they change the subject. "Close your eyes and get some rest. I promise I'll be here when you wake up.

"Kay," Dean said and drifted off to sleep.

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A couple of hours later, back in Dean's room, John and Sam were sitting with him, waiting for the doctor. Dean was trying to stay as still as possible, but he really wanted to shift positions to try and make himself more comfortable. His hip was sore from where the doctor had to drive the needle into it, but he had refused the pain medication the nurse had offered. Why Dean felt he had to be in pain, John would never understand, and guessed that on some level, Dean was punishing himself for his screw up in the cemetery. They all looked up when someone entered the room.

"I have Dean's results," Dr. Scott announced solemnly.

A/N: I did Google bone marrow biopsies and found several sites detailing the procedure, but I couldn't really find any accounts of how one feels. I just think from the description it sounds painful. So, if anyone here is familiar with them I hope you'll forgive any glaring inaccuracies.

Please remember to feed the muse and review. I am still not to proud to beg if I have to.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Still don't own them, still not making any money

Thanks to Soar for the for the beta. Thats to Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for the feedback on this chapter

_Past_

Mary Winchester was an early riser and she always woke with the sun. She watched dawn come over the horizon and saw the sun brighten everything in its path. Mary felt that this was very fitting as it matched her mood. She felt like a dark cloud had been lifted and she was truly happy for the first time in a very long time, and it all had to do with a little boy named Dean.

She couldn't even pinpoint why. She had no legal right to the baby and he could be snatched from her at any time, either by social services or by one of the many life threatening conditions he could potentially develop. Mary knew that she could be setting herself up for future heartache, but right at this moment, she really didn't care. She was going to enjoy being around him for as long as she possibly could. She'd deal with the other stuff later.

It had taken Mary a long time to convince her supervisor to transfer her to the NICU, but she had finally managed to arrange it. Her father had always said she should have been a lawyer, she could argue just about anyone under the table. Mary grinned at the thought. It had certainly come in handy. The hours in the NICU were longer and more demanding, but that was one of the things Mary relished, because it was going to give her more time with Dean.

After spending the afternoon visiting with the baby and learning her new responsibilities, Mary went home and cooked a romantic supper for her and her husband. She lit candles, arranged the mood lighting and turned on some classic rock. _Okay, she thought, not the most romantic music,__but better than that depressing country and western junk that John liked to listen to. _

Mary and John rediscovered their relationship that night, but as much as John was glad to see his wife return to her former self, he had to admit that it terrified him as well. Mary had told him all about the baby who had been abandoned by his young mother, but he'd seen the warmth with which Mary talked about Dean. He desperately wanted to warn Mary, to caution her not to get attached, that Dean wasn't theirs, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't take away the one thing that was giving his wife back her sense of joy. Besides, it was most likely already too late. Mary was already in love with the little boy. John wasn't surprised though. The thing John loved most about his wife was the size of her heart. It had already been shattered once and John was grateful to a tiny baby that he had never met for putting it back together again. The problem was that same child could shatter it just as easily.

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The next morning, Mary once again showed up for work an hour earlier than her shift. She headed directly to the Dean's incubator. She couldn't help but smile at the fact that Tammy had replaced Dean's identity card so that it now read James Dean Newton. It suited him perfectly. Mary didn't hold out any hope that whoever adopted Dean would keep it though. That thought caused a frown to appear on Mary's face. She didn't know which thought caused her more grief, someone adopting him because then she couldn't see him anymore, or someone changing his name.

She spent the entire hour before her shift just sitting by his incubator, encouraging him to hold on, and talking to him, lightly stroking his bald head. He was the most beautiful thing Mary had ever seen.

"I wish I could hold you, little one, but you're still too small. I'm making you another promise though, Dean, as soon as you're big enough, I'm going to be the first to take you in my arms. Now I hate to leave, but I have to go start my shift. I'll be around though. You just remember your promise and I'll remember mine."

Mary reluctantly left Dean's side and went to work. She didn't want to risk being sent off the floor, so she managed to keep herself focused and completed her duties skilfully and confidently, she was an excellent nurse. Luck was with her and she had been assigned Dean's care that night so she was able to spend some extra time with him. She didn't even go for her break. She spent all her free time next to Dean's incubator. Luckily, she was sitting with him when Dr. Tyler came by with an official looking woman and she knew without a doubt it was the worker from DCFS.

"Hello, I'm Donna Conner. I work with the department of children and family services. You're Mary Winchester?"

"Yes," Mary replied as she regarded the woman standing before her. She looked older and had a sour look on her face, like she had been sucking on a lemon. She had a haggard appearance, as if she had seen too much of the bad side of life, and being a social worker, she probably had.

"What can you tell me about the baby's mother?" Donna asked, all business.

"I was on duty when a young woman came in. She was 7 months pregnant and her name was Mandy Newton. The only thing I know about the father is that he was named Tony, Mandy never mentioned a last name. She wanted... noth...nothing to do with her child," Mary said, trying to keep her voice steady. She couldn't believe someone would abandon the little boy who had already found a place in Mary's heart.

"I wish this is the first time I could say that this has happened. This is, um..." Donna paused and looked at her chart. "Baby boy Newton." She looked down in the incubator.

Donna had a ton of cases on her desk and she really didn't need another one.

"Yup, this is Dean, that's what we've decided to call him," Mary explained.

Donna gave a long suffering sigh and said, "I'll start the paper work."

"What happens now?" Mary wanted to know._ They weren't taking Dean away, were they?_

"I'll get the court to appoint a temporary guardian who'll make medical decisions and if he survives..."

"He will," Mary interrupted with conviction.

Donna looked at Mary and frowned. "If he survives," she continued. "Then we'll look at foster care. If the biological mother or father doesn't come forward, then he'll be placed up for adoption."

"I bet he'll be snatched up," Mary said with a touch of sadness in her tone. The very thought of losing Dean caused Mary's heart to tighten in her chest. A thought began to make itself known in the back of her mind.

"I wish," Donna said. "It would certainly lighten my case load."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well look at him. He's going to need a lot of care. Most parents want to adopt a healthy newborn. Most likely with the host of problems he's going to have, if he survives in the first place, it's going to be hard to place him in either foster care or permanent adoption. He'll probably go to a group home or a long term care facility."

_Over my dead body._

"It will be really difficult to find someone who will put up with everything," Donna continued unaware of the thunder cloud that had descended over Mary's mood, her temper instantly flaring.

"I will," Mary snapped suddenly, trying to sound like a professional rather than an insulted parent. This lady was insulting her boy. _My boy. I like the sound of that. _

"Excuse me?" Donna said in a shocked tone.

"I want him," Mary said firmly.

"You want to be his temporary guardian?"

"No, I want to adopt him. How do I go about starting the process?"

"Mrs. Winchester, it's not that simple," Donna said. "You have to apply, go through interviews, we have to interview family and friends, do a home visit. It's a lot of work for nothing," Donna said sounding put out.

Mary really had to work to reign in her temper. John always said it was something she had problems with. _More work for you, you mean,__you stupid... Mary stop! _She told herself. "I don't care. I want to start the process. The paperwork, interviews, whatever it takes. I want Dean," Mary said in a tone that left no room for doubt that this was absolutely what she wanted.

"What would your husband say?" Donna asked. "Have you asked him?"

"My husband and I have been discussing adoption." _Okay, little white lie,__but no harm done. _

Mary knew she really should have discussed this with John, because it would affect him too, but she knew he would only put up a token protest, and in the end, he would agree. After all, he wanted kids as much as she did. Besides that, she had her secret weapon, what her father called puppy dog eyes. Once she unleashed them on her husband, she would have him at her mercy. "What do I have to do?" she asked.

Donna sighed again. "Come by my office tomorrow with your husband and you can fill out an application form."

"We'll be there," Mary said with conviction.

After Donna took her leave, Dr. Tyler came over to speak with his friend. He had been monitoring the conversation with Mary and the social worker. He couldn't say that he was surprised at the outcome. He had noticed the bond between Mary and Dean.

"Mary," Dr. Tyler cautioned. "Really think about this, okay?"

"There's nothing to think about. I can't let him go."

"Mary, I'm your friend. I know how stressful this has been, but Dean isn't going to recover overnight, if at all. "

"I'm a nurse, Adam. I know what I'm facing and the fact of the matter is that I really don't care."

"Mary, just remember. He may not make it."

Something inside Mary snapped. "Why is it that's all anyone's saying? If he were here with two parents by his side, we'd be comforting them, encouraging them not to give up hope. You can't change my mind!" With that, Mary turned and went back to Dean. She had news for him.

A little while later, when Dr. Tyler went to examine him, he whispered to the little boy. "You're lucky, Dean, having her in your corner. Just one piece of advice, you better make it, because you don't want to make her mad."

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"Absolutely not," John ground out when Mary brought her request to him.

"Why not? It's a perfect solution. Dean needs a home and we can give him one. You should see him, John. He's perfect, got a grip on him that would do the Royals or Chiefs proud. I know once you lay eyes on him, you're going to fall in love, just like I did."

"I'm not against adoption, Mary, but have you really considered whether we can look after a sick child, financially, emotionally?" John asked seriously.

"I know what we're facing. He's got no one, John. I can't let him go to a group home. He needs a family. Family is everything."

In the end, despite his reservations, John agreed, as Mary had known he would. John would do anything for his wife. That was how the two of them found themselves in the DCFS office the next day. They had to fill out a mountain of paperwork, submit all kinds of legal documentation, bank statements, consent to a background check, set up home visits with family and friends, and there was a home inspection. John felt like he would have an easier time getting the CIA to release its secrets instead of being approved for fostering or adoption.

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A week later, preliminary reports were looking good for Mary and John to be approved as foster parents. Dean couldn't legally be placed up for adoption just yet, as his biological parents could still claim him.

Mary really didn't have time to dwell on that right now though, because when she reported to work that night, she found Dean in the middle of his second crisis. Dr. Tyler ran tests and it was determined that the baby was suffering from necrotizing enterocolitisis, an inflammation of his bowel and intestines. He wasn't feeding well and he had dropped down to 2 pounds 9 ounces. He was immediately switched to a stronger antibiotic. If he didn't respond to those, they were going to have to look at surgery to correct the problem. The very thought terrified Mary because surgery was hard on anyone, but it was especially tough on a preemie.

"Hey, little one, I thought we talked about this," Mary said in a gentle reprimand. "I need you to listen close, Dean. Remember that old sourpuss lady who was here? Well, I went to see her last week. You see, your biological mother can't look after you right now and some people are looking for someone to take care of you. I put my name right at the top of that list. If they say yes, then when you get out of here, you're going to come and live with me and John, that's my husband. You'll have your own room. Won't have to share," she paused indicating the other babies. "I'm thinking zoo animals, but John says that all little boys love baseball and that's how we're going to decorate your room. We argued and compromised. You'll find we do that a lot. Your room is going to be decorated with animals playing baseball. So you have to beat this, Dean-o. Just remember that I love you and am here for you," Mary said in a tender tone.

"Any word yet?" Tammy asked Mary as she came up behind her with Dean's feeding.

"Nothing official. Donna at social services said it looks promising though. We'll be his foster parents until he's legally placed up for adoption. There's a waiting period to make sure the biological parents don't come forward before that can happen."

"I hope everything works out, Mary," Tammy said sincerely. She liked seeing Mary happy again. "You want to do this?" She asked as she handed Mary a syringe filled with Dean's evening nutritional supplement.

"Sure," Mary said enthusiastically. "I wish John could come and see him," Mary said wistfully. Only parents and grandparents were allowed in the NICU, so John wouldn't be able to see him until they got approval from the court as Dean's legal guardians.

Mary sat with Dean that evening at every chance she got. She talked to him about everything. Their house, John, the neighbourhood, schools and other children. She really didn't want to leave, but her supervisor threatened her gently and promised he would call her if Dean looked like he was deteriorating.

The next morning, when Mary reported in, she was met with good news. Dean had fed well the night before. His abdomen was no longer rigid, it looked like the NE was clearing up, and Dean had actually gained an ounce. He was back up to 3 pounds.

"Looks like the antibiotics did the trick," Mary commented to the doctor when he showed up for Dean's next check up.

"No, Mary," Adam Tyler disagreed. "The antibiotics can only do so much. Dean felt your love for him and it's why he's fighting so much. I would lay money on the fact that it's the reason he's still alive."

"Thanks, Adam, that means a lot. I'm lucky to have such good friends, and if all goes well, soon I'll have a son," Mary said with a fond glance at Dean.

"Dean," Tammy said to the baby. "You're so lucky to have Mary fighting for you." Tammy knew it was impossible, given Dean's age and the fact that he had a breathing tube, but she would have sworn in a court of law that she saw Dean smile.

A/N: I would like to thank Oceane for this line: Dean felt your love for him and it's why he's fighting so much, and for letting me use it. Also, I know nothing about how social services works, or if someone in Dean's position would be hard to place. I did Google it, but I didn't find much so I made a lot of it up. Hopefully it sounds plausible. I'm guessing that it takes a lot longer for approval that a week or two weeks, but I am using creative license, so I hope if anyone is familiar with the process, they can forgive any glaring mistakes.

Please remember to feed the muse and review.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

Thanks you to Soar, JuliaAurelia, and Sinead-Conlan for their help with this chapter.

"I have Dean's test results," Dr. Scott said solemly.

"What's wrong with my boy, doc?" John asked, trying to keep the waver out of his voice. He really didn't like the look on the doctor's face. Sam didn't say anything and he didn't know if it was his psychic thing or what, but he knew that it couldn't be good.

"Tests all indicate that Dean is suffering from severe idiopathic aplastic anemia."

None of the Winchesters knew what that was, just that it sounded serious. Dean only focused on one word, anemia.

"You told me that last week, you put me through all of that for nothing," he snapped and shifted when the ache in his hip again made itself known, as if it too was protesting. "Now will you let me go home?" Dean said and started to toss the covers off. John stopped him and Dean gave a low cry of frustration.

"Let him finish," he said softly to his son.

"Yes, Dean, you are suffering from anemia, but there are many different kinds. Aplastic anemia is a disease that affects your bone marrow."

"Is it cancer?" Sam asked in a worried tone.

"No, it's not cancer. Any cells that Dean's body is producing are normal, he's just not producing enough of them. There are three types of blood cells, red, white and platelets. Our bodies depend on red blood cells for oxygen, white to fight infection and platelets that help with clotting. When a person has aplastic anemia, the body stops producing those blood cells. It can range from mild to very severe and we can determine the level of severity by how low a patient's blood count is. Dean's put him in the severe category. "

"What caused this?" John demanded. When he was worried, he became more aggressive. It helped him feel in control.

"We're not sure. There is nothing in Dean's records that would indicate a primary cause, and that's why we classify it as idiopathic, or unknown."

John felt his heart start to beat faster in his chest, so forcefully that he wouldn't have been surprised if someone could see it thumping. Dean's records weren't complete. Every time he had been in the hospital, he'd been admitted under an assumed name. What if there was something in Dean MacGillicuddy's chart that had caused this, or could cure it? He had to call Jefferson and get him to do some fast hacking. "When Dean was a baby, he was born premature, his records were, um, lost in a fire," John said quickly. "Could that make a difference?" he asked. He was also sitting on his other secret. He didn't want to mention that unless he absolutely had to.

"It may have been a contributing factor, but it's most likely that we'll never know," Dr. Scott replied.

"I don't really care what caused it," Sam replied truthfully. He wasn't surprised that it was a severe case, Dean never did anything half way. The only thing he cared about was how to make it go away. "How do we treat it?" he asked.

"Well, in most cases, aplastic anemia is treated with either immunosuppressive therapy, or a bone marrow transplant. Aplastic anemia is an auto-immune disorder, which means that the body attacks itself. With immunosuppressive therapy, we suppress the immune system, and hopefully, it stops the body from attacking the bone marrow, but we've had better success with bone marrow transplants. Immunosuppressive therapy is done mainly with older patients who can't tolerate a transplant and given the severity of Dean's condition and his age, I would strongly recommend a bone marrow transplant. It would give him a better chance of long term survival."

Survival, the very word instilled fear in John's heart. He'd heard that word too many times in Dean's short life. It wasn't fair. Why did his boy have to endure so much? One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to lose his son.

Sam, who wasn't faring much better than John was at the news, was thinking the exact same thing as his father. The only one who had yet to react was Dean. He just lay there, staring at some non existent spot on the wall.

"Let's do this bone marrow thingy," John ground out.

"Hey!" Dean finally spoke. It was him they were talking about. Why did it seem lately, that he was the last one consulted concerning decisions about his body? He hadn't wanted to go to the hospital in the first place, yet he had ended up there. He hadn't wanted to be admitted that first day, yet he was still here. He hadn't wanted the tests, yet he could still feel the pain in his hip where the doctor had stuck him with the huge needle. Didn't anyone care about what he wanted? _Of course they didn't, they__never had__before, so why break with__tradition and start now, he thought bitterly. _

"It's not that simple," the doctor stated. "I need you to know that the procedure is not without risks."

"Explain," John demanded.

"I'll start at the beginning. First, we would give Dean high doses of chemotherapy to destroy his remaining immune system. This helps him prevent rejection."

"I thought you said he didn't have cancer," Sam said angrily. Stupid doctor was lying to them.

"He doesn't. The chemo is to destroy the remaining diseased marrow and give the transplant a better chance of succeeding. It's not easy and there are a lot of side effects associated with it. Nausea, vomiting, hair loss, diarrhoea, problems with memory and concentration, and there is the likely fact that in most people, chemotherapy can cause infertility, so that's something you need to consider as well."

Unconsciously, John rose from his chair and closed the short distance to his son's hospital bed. He sat down beside Dean and put an arm over his shoulder. It was a testament to how scared Dean was when he didn't pull away, but instead, he felt Dean lean into him, and could feel his son trembling. Dean remained silent and that worried John, even though he knew that was how his son coped with things.

Sam was also worried about his brother. Why did it seem like Dean could never catch a break?

"Now, the chemo is just phase one. Once his immune system is knocked out, we would give him a transfusion of healthy marrow, much like you would get a blood transfusion, Dean. Then, if all goes well, the healthy marrow grows and takes over. Of course, there is the potential for complications, rejection and infection being our main concerns."

"Dean can have any of my bone marrow that he needs," John offered.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Colt, we need someone who is compatible with Dean. Most times, siblings have the best chance of being a match. We would like to test both of you to see if you're a match to Dean."

Sam looked over at his father and he really didn't like the expression on his father's face. It was his 'I have information that you need to know, but don't ask because I'm not sharing' face. He decided that he would grill his father later. Right now, the only thing that mattered was Dean.

"If we match, how do we donate," Sam asked.

"It's done much like the bone marrow biopsy we gave Dean, just on a larger scale. We use a general anaesthetic because the actual procedure is harder on the donor than the recipient. The donor is usually stiff and sore for a few days, but complications are rare."

"He can have of all mine if he needs it," Sam confirmed. He didn't care what he had to go through as long as Dean got better.

"Forget it," Dean said, finally finding his voice. He may have had no say over his own body, but damn it, he had full control over Sam's.

"What was that, Dean?" John asked.

"No way. Sammy's not going through that," Dean confirmed. If he was this sore from just having a small amount taken for a test, how much pain would Sammy be in? _No way, it wasn't happening. _

"Your brother would be your best chance for a compatible donor, Dean. There are risks, but it's a fairly routine procedure," Dr. Scott said.

_Shut up, you idiot. John wanted to say to the doctor. _He was digging himself in deeper with every word he said. Dean would never go for this if he thought there was even a remote chance, however small, of something happening to Sammy.

"No!" Dean said stubbornly, as if on cue. "You're not doing it, Sammy. I'm not going to let you."

"You can't stop me, Dean. I'm not a little kid anymore," Sam insisted.

"Forget it, Sammy. It's not happening," Dean repeated forcibly.

"You forget it, Dean. I'm doing this with or without your approval, it's my decision," Sam argued.

"Well it's my decision to have a transplant. I can refuse treatment if I want, and I will if you try," Dean countered.

"Go right ahead, big brother, because I'm donating anyway. If you want me to ris..." Sam paused. He'd been about to say risk his life, but that would have had Dean charging for the exit in a heartbeat. "To have the procedure for nothing, it's your choice," he finished

"Sammy..."

"Boys, stop. This isn't helping," John said. He knew this would continue for the rest of the day, and Heaven help them if he was the one being the voice of reason.

"Sorry," Sam said contritely.

Dean just scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, anger welling up inside him.

"Right now, we don't even know if any of you is a match," the doctor pointed out. "We just need to take a blood sample. We'll send it to the lab for HLA typing to see if either of you are compatible. This is a big decision and not one to be made lightly. Discuss it and let me know. I'll be around all day if you have questions."

"I have one," Dean said, surprising everyone by speaking up. "Can I go home while we're doing this?"

"I wouldn't recommend it. Your white counts are so low that you're at a higher risk of infection. Right now, even a common cold can be dangerous for you."

"I want to go home," Dean said stubbornly.

"Dean, you're staying here," John said firmly.

"I don't want to," Dean snapped.

"Stop it," John demanded in his 'it's an order' voice.

"I'm not a child..."

"You're acting like one, now knock it off, Dean Wi... uh, Colt. Sorry doc, can we talk about setting up those tests? Sam, stay with your brother," John replied when it looked like Sam had been about to follow them.

Dean was fuming over the fact that, once again, his opinion was the only one that didn't matter, especially when it was the only one that should. It was _**him**_ they were discussing. Why didn't anyone care about what he wanted? He rolled over, despite the renewed pain in his hip from lying on it. He actually welcomed the pain, it made him feel real and gave him a reminder that he was still there. He also refused to speak when Sam asked him a question.

Sam sighed and continued to sit next to his brother, offering what silent comfort he could.

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"What are the chances of an unrelated donor matching?" John asked Dr. Scott when they were out in the hallway.

"About 1 in 20, 000, can I ask why?" Dr. Scott questioned in a curious tone. "There's a one in four chance of him and his brother matching."

"Dr. Scott, my wife and I, um, well, Dean's adopted."

Dr. Scott sighed and then looked frankly at John. "Thank you for telling me now, before we start. Do you know anything about his biological parents?"

"A little," John said vaguely.

"We'll still test you, of course, but your odds of matching aren't high. We'll enter Dean into the national Bone Marrow Registry and hope for the best," Dr. Scott offered.

"Doc, one more thing. Dean doesn't know and you can't tell him," John explained.

"We shouldn't have to, that's your decision. Right now, I think you need to sit and have a talk with your sons. Here are some booklets that go over everything I've said. Review them, discuss them and page me with any questions. There is a lot to consider."

"Doc, be honest with me. If we don't do this, what happens to Dean?"

"Without treatment, severe aplastic anemia is almost always fatal," the doctor said seriously.

"He'll be okay if we do this though, right?" John asked in a voice that made him sound younger than his years. "My boys, they're all I have. I don't know what I would do if I..." John trailed off, unable to put the rest of his thoughts into words. He was scared and felt himself choking up.

The doctor regarded the man before him. He felt his heart go out to him, he looked so lost. "We'll do everything we can, Mr. Colt. I promise."

Please remember to read and review. They're what I live for.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Thanks once again to Soar for all her help. Any left over mistakes are completely my own. Thanks also to JuliaAurelia and Sinead-Conlan for their feedback.

Disclaimer: No money is being made from this.

_1979 - Two weeks later. _

This was it. Today was the day that Mary and John were going to find out whether or not they were approved as foster parents. They'd submitted all the paperwork, gone through all the interviews and visits that examined every inch of their lives, and it had left the Winchesters feeling like they had been put under a microscope. Mary didn't care, though. It would be worth anything to have Dean.

Mary was feeling more nervous than she'd ever been in her life as she stood in front of the mirror and finished pulling her hair back into a ponytail. The meeting with Dean's social worker was in about 45 minutes. This had to go well because she had to go to work immediately afterward and she wanted to be able to tell Dean the good news. Her little boy was getting stronger each day, but he still had a long way to go and he had been through so much already. She couldn't bear to disappoint him.

She realized that she really needed to stop doing that. It seemed lately, that every time she thought of Dean, she thought of him as hers. Right now, she had no legal right to him and there was still so much that could go wrong. _Stop it Mary, she told herself. You can't think like that either. _

"Mary, you ready?" John came up behind her.

"As I'll ever be. It's going to be good news, right, John?" Mary said hopefully.

"They'd be stupid to turn you down," John confirmed with a confidence he didn't feel. He was as nervous as his wife.

A short time later, they found themselves sitting in Donna's office, waiting for her to give them the news. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she entered.

"John, Mary," she greeted them pleasantly and then gave them a wide smile.

Mary felt her heart leap into her chest.

"I have some good news for the two of you. All reports are good. I was very pleased with your application and the results of interviews and visits. I am recommending your approval as foster parents, and am also further recommending to the courts that James Dean Newton be placed in your care until such time that his biological parents come forth, or he is legally placed for adoption. Congratulations," she said genuinely.

"You mean it," Mary said excitedly.

"Yes, I know it's not a done deal yet, but in at least 95 percent of cases, the courts follow our recommendations."

"Thank you so much," Mary said sincerely, a big grin on her face. She took back every bad thought she'd ever had about the woman.

John watched his wife light up at the social worker's words. He loved the way she was glowing. He also found himself praying, for the first time in a long time, that nothing went wrong now.

"John, Mary, I want to say I really hope this works out for both of you. I know that when we first met, I probably came across as cold and uncaring. I just wish I could say that this was the first time I have come across a child in Dean's situation." Donna paused and pointed to a large stack of folders on her desk. "About half of those are the same thing."

"It must be tough," John agreed with a shudder as some of the atrocities he'd seen committed against women and children in Vietnam came back to him.

"I want to say that Dean is a very lucky little boy. He reminds me so much of Rebecca," Donna said sadly.

"Who's Rebecca?" Mary asked curiously.

"It was back when I first started. I had been on the job for just under a year, and let me tell you, it was the hardest year of my life. I almost quit several times. Seeing the worst of people has a way of getting to you," Donna admitted.

"What stopped you? Rebecca?" John said thinking that had something to do with her decision not to quit.

"Yes," Donna confirmed. "I had my resignation all typed out. I was just trying to get up the nerve to hand it in when I got assigned a new case. A little girl born to a teenage prostitute had been abandoned at a hospital, so I went over there to start the paper work. There was this nurse, much like yourself, Mary, who developed an attachment to the girl. She said that she wanted to talk to her husband about adoption. I was thrilled that one of my cases appeared finally to have a happy ending. Then they found out the girl had cerebral palsy and they told me that they were no longer sure that they could look after her properly. I was devastated. We had a hard time placing her."

Mary felt her eyes fill with tears over the little girl's story. No wonder Donna had acted like she had towards her. "What happened to the little girl?" Mary asked softly, almost dreading the answer.

Donna gave her own smile of affection and picked up a photograph that was on the corner of her desk and handed it to Mary.

She looked down and saw picture of Donna and a good looking man standing beside her. Between them was a young lady in a wheelchair smiling widely at the camera. "She became my daughter. My husband and I decided to adopt her and I haven't regretted it for a moment. When I saw you standing there over little Dean, I though it was Rebecca's situation all over again. I know it was unprofessional and I'm sorry, but I allowed my personal experiences to cloud my judgement. Dean just reminded me so much of Rebecca. I thought history was repeating itself."

"It's okay," Mary said firmly. "Just please rest assured that I am serious about this. I won't turn my back on Dean."

"I know that and I have to say that I am very glad I was wrong," Donna said warmly. "The court date is three weeks from now, at 10 am. Judge Willis is going to want to interview you both and he'll make the final decision, but I want you both to know that you have my support."

"Thank you so much," Mary said sincerely. "I have to get to work and tell Dean," she said excitedly and threw her arms around John.

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It was a good thing that there were no cops around that day, as Mary drove down the highway toward the hospital. She broke every speed limit there was.

She ran directly to the NICU, almost knocking over several people. She went directly to Dean's incubator.

Her happiness was brought to an abrupt end when she found Dr. Tyler and another doctor by Dean's incubator looking solemn. _Oh, God, please no. It can't be anything serious. _

_"_Adam," she said nervously.

"Hi Mary," Adam Tyler answered tiredly.

He'd been on all night and was getting ready to leave when he had examined Dean, his last patient of the day, and noticed a heart murmur. He had cursed and immediately paged Dr. Louise Salah, the hospital's leading pediatric cardiac specialist. Louise came immediately and ran some tests.

"Louise, this is Mary Winchester," Adam said, introducing her.

"Hi," she said in a friendly tone. "Adam told me that you're the one that wants to adopt Dean."

"I hope to," Mary said in a worried tone. This couldn't be happening. Not now, not today. "He's going to be okay, right?" _He had to._

"Adam called me because he noticed a heart murmur. I ran an EKG and an echocardiogram. It looks like we're dealing with patent ductus arteriosus," Louise said.

Mary felt her heart speed up. Patent ductus arteriosus was a common condition among preemies. Basically, when a child was still in its mothers womb, its oxygen supply came from the mother through the placenta. The ductus arterios was a blood vessel that all babies developed in the womb that allowed blood to bypass the lungs. After birth, it usually closed on its own, but in a lot of premature newborns, it remained patent or open. It allowed extra blood to flow into the lungs, causing the heart to have to work harder to pump the extra blood. If left untreated, it could lead to breathing difficulties, tiring easily, respiratory infections, poor growth or even congestive heart failure.

"We're going to start him on indomethacin," Adam said, naming a drug that caused the PDA to constrict. "We don't want to have to do surgery unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I know," Mary said. Surgery would be extremely risky given Dean's birth weight.

"We'll keep a close watch on him over the next few days," Louise added.

"Oh, Mary, I'm so sorry. I forgot to ask," Dr. Tyler said apologetically. "How'd things go today?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Mary still felt herself smile. "We got approved as foster parents and we have an appointment with the family court three weeks from today to find out the official word. I'll need to make sure I'm off that day," Mary requested.

"I'll make a note on the schedule," Dr. Tyler said. "I want you to go home after your shift today as well. I don't want you getting sick because of you being here all the time. You need to take care of yourself too, okay?"

"I promise," Mary said.

"Okay, I'm going to head home. I have my beeper if you need anything. I'll leave you to tell Dean your good news."

"Thanks Adam," Mary said as she took a seat by Dean's incubator.

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The next three weeks were extremely tough for Mary. Dean developed an infection and it was touch and go for awhile. For two days, Mary sat with him, refusing to leave.

This left John extremely frustrated. He wasn't allowed in the NICU, as only parents and grandparents were. He couldn't even be there to comfort his wife and he really wanted to meet the little boy that might become his son. Right now, he was nothing more than a name.

Little Dean's fever finally broke, allowing everyone to breathe a sigh of relief. The medicine seemed to be working for Dean's PDA, but Mary knew that it would be something that they would have to keep an eye on, as sometimes the effects of the medication weren't permanent.

The morning of the court hearing finally arrived, making both Winchesters really nervous. They were both afraid of saying the wrong thing to the judge. John especially didn't want to screw this up, as his wife would never forgive him.

First, the Winchesters sat in court as Donna presented her recommendation to the judge. She gave John and Mary nothing but the highest praise. Then, all too soon, John heard his name called and he was escorted back to the judge's chambers.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Winchester," Judge Willis said as he gestured toward the leather chairs in front of his desk.

"John, please," he said nervously as he took the proffered chair.

"John, I want you to tell me your feelings about all this."

John swallowed and tried to collect his thoughts. _God, please don't let me say the wrong thing. _"Being a father is something I have wanted my whole life. Then, when me and Mary found out we couldn't have children, we were devastated. I hated to see my wife in so much pain. We had been discussing adoption and then Mary came home from work one day and told me all about this little boy that needed a home. I was all for it," John said. He and Mary had worked out this story before hand. They hadn't actually been discussing adoption.

"From my understanding, Dean may be a special needs child. Are you prepared to handle that?"

"Yes, my wife's a nurse and I have been reading about preemies. I feel we can handle anything," John said, really hoping he sounded confident when, in fact, he was terrified.

The interview went on for about 20 minutes when the judge asked his last question.

"I understand you have not met the child yet? How do you feel about him?"

John only had to think about that for a second. "I know that when Mary first told me about Dean, I saw her smile for the first time in months. He filled a hole that Mary had in her heart, and for that, he'll always have a place in mine." _I really hope that doesn't come across as corny as it sounds._

John couldn't tell a thing from the judge's face, he showed no emotion, good or bad, he simply asked the bailiff to show John out and bring Mary in. Now it was Mary who felt the pressure. The judge greeted her and asked Mary to have a seat.

"Mary, please tell me why you want to be a foster parent to Dean?"

"I work at the hospital and one night, a young woman gave birth to a little boy. I felt a connection to him immediately. As time went on, I realized that I wanted him in my life."

"You know that fostering is not the same as adoption. His biological parents still have a right to claim him."

"I know, and if that happens, I'll be heartbroken," Mary said honestly. "First and foremost, though, I want the best for Dean. If that happens to be letting him go, I would do it," she said with conviction.

"Would you be willing to foster other children?" the judged asked.

"Yes," Mary said sincerely.

"Thank you. I'll give you my decision shortly."

Mary and John went to the cafeteria and tried to eat, but they were both too nervous. They went back to the courtroom and Mary waited once more to hear if her life was going to shatter.

"Well, I have reviewed all the evidence," Judge Willis said. "From all reports, I feel that the Winchesters can provide a loving, stable environment for a child."

Mary once again felt her heart leap into her chest and she felt John's hands grip hers tighter.

"It is therefore the ruling of the court that James Dean Newton be placed into the temporary custody of John and Mary Winchester."

Mary wanted to run and hug the judge, but she restrained herself and politely thanked him. Once outside the courtroom, however, she threw her arms around John.

"Come on," Mary said, dragging her husband behind her like he was a rag doll. "We have to tell Dean."

"We?" John asked in surprised.

"Yeah, it's time you met your son."

That both excited John and made him nervous, but he was going to see his son. His son. He liked the sound of that.

Please remember to feed the muse by leaving a review.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Thanks to Soar for the beta any left over mistakes are mine. I would also like to thank Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for their feedback on this chapter.

Disclaimer: Still don't own them

_Present_

Shortly after finding out the diagnosis, Dean kicked both John and Sam out of his room. He claimed he needed time to think and then he refused to say another word to both of them. Knowing when to back off, John and Sam did as he asked. They did go right to the lab and have blood drawn for the HLA typing, though, and then they retired to the motel for the night.

It was a long, sleepless night for both of them. Sam tossed and turned with worry over his brother. John tossed and turned over worry for his son, and just how much of his secret he was going to have to reveal. Sam was going to be devastated when he found out that he didn't match, but John felt he owed it to him to at least give him a warning.

Sam finally gave up attempting to sleep at around 6 am. He had a shower and headed out to get some breakfast for him and his father before they headed back to the hospital to see Dean. When he returned, he found his father wringing his hands, looking extremely nervous about something.

"Sam, sit down. I need to talk to you," John said seriously.

Sam had known that his dad was hiding something and he bit his tongue to keep from blurting out 'I knew it.' "What is it?" he asked instead.

"You better sit down."

This caused Sam to really become nervous. "Just tell me, dad, please. Is it something about Dean?"

"Yes," John confirmed. "Sammy, I don't want you to get your hopes up about being a match for Dean."

"I will be," Sam stated with conviction. "Dr. Scott said a one in four chance."

"That's not 100 percent, kiddo. That's only a 25 percent chance of you being a match."

"It's a hell of a lot better than the .005 percent chance of a stranger. I don't care how much Dean protests, I'm doing this, dad. He'd do it for me."

"He would," John agreed. "I really hope you match, Sammy, but your odds, our odds, fall into the .005 percent category."

"Dad, what the hell are you saying? Dr. Scott said one in four," Sam said desperately. "Dean and I are brothers."

"This is not coming out right," John said in frustration, running his fingers through his hair before trying again. "Sam, when your mother and I got married, we both knew that we wanted kids, a big family, but we had trouble conceiving. The doctors told us it was all but impossible. It devastated both of us. We fought constantly, said hurtful things to each other. It was a bad time, Sam."

"What are you saying, dad?" Sam asked, a hint of bewilderment coloring his tone.

"Please Sam, just let me speak. I promise I'll tell you everything. Your mom was a nurse and one day, she came home and told me all about this girl that had given birth to a premature baby. Your mom developed a real soft spot for the boy. She'd come home every night and tell me all about his progress and his set backs. She fell in love with that child and together, we made a decision to give that boy a home. We fostered for a year and a half and then we petitioned the courts for adoption. That boy was your brother, Sam."

Sam wasn't sure what to say, he just sat there, dumbfounded. Dean was adopted. Whatever he'd thought his father had been hiding, that definitely was not it.

"Sam..." John prompted after 10 minutes of silence.

"Was I...?" he finally asked tentatively

"No, you're my biological child. Dean was about four when we discovered that your mother was pregnant. It was a miracle that we didn't question. We had a perfect family and to me, it never mattered where Dean came from."

Sam was full of questions. "Who are his parents?" he blurted out.

"Me and your mother," John said sounding offended.

"That's not what I meant and you know it!" Sam defended himself.

"Okay, I don't know much about his mother, just that she was named Mandy Newton. The only thing we know about a father was that his first name was Tony."

"You never were curious about them?"

"I was plenty curious, I just didn't care enough. We had Dean and that was all that mattered."

"And you never told him?"

"We had planned to. I swear, Sam, we were gonna tell him. It's just that we wanted to wait until he was old enough to understand. We always told him that he was special and that he was loved, we wanted to prepare him. Then, there was the fire and..." John paused. "It just never seemed like the right time after that, and as I said before, I didn't care."

"Don't you think Dean has a right to know?" Sam said.

"You want to explain it to him? You know how your brother would react."

Anger descended on Sam like a lightening strike. "Yeah, I know how he'd react," he said and glared at his father. "Yet, you still abandoned him."

"Sam, you're not making sense."

"Don't forget, you abandoned Dean, dad. You left him. Took off, no explanation, nothing, just gone. Dean didn't know whether you were alive or dead. Do you know what that did to him? You didn't even care enough when he was dying and don't tell me it wasn't safe."

John wasn't sure where this was coming from, or how Sam got from the news that his brother was adopted, to accusing him of abandoning Dean, but he had a feeling that Sam had wanted to confront his father about it for a while and this gave him the perfect excuse.

"Don't you dare take that tone with me. It wasn't safe. Sam, I was there when Dean was dying. I showed up at the hospital just after you guys had left. I followed you to Nebraska, and when I got there, Dean was healed. You don't know what your call did to me."

"Still could have let him know you were glad he was okay," Sam muttered.

"I..." John started to try and explain.

"You know what, dad, forget it. There is no excuse you could come up with that I'm going to buy," Sam said angrily. He walked over to the table and grabbed his jacket. He needed to think. "I'll meet you at the hospital," he ground out.

"Sam, please," John said on the verge of begging. "I screwed up, I know that. I can't change it, but please don't tell your brother. He can't know."

"I need some air, dad."

"Sam..."

Sam turned back to his father and was shocked by what he saw. His father looked so lost, and were those tears glistening in his eyes? Sam didn't think he'd ever seen his father cry. It was almost enough to make Sam stay, almost. "I can't do this right now. I won't say anything to Dean though, he doesn't need anything else to deal with."

John let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "Thanks Sammy, and I know you're angry at me, but I did what I thought was best. I'll be at the hospital. It's going to take the two of us to convince Dean to go through with the transplant, if we can find a donor."

Sam didn't say anything. He just walked out the door.

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"Mr. Colt," Dr. Scott said to the elder hunter as he made his way down the hall towards Dean's room.

"What's up?" John asked, his hunter's instincts going off. "Dean..."

"Is fine for now," Dr. Scott said.

"Thank God," John said, visibly sagging with relief.

"What I need you to do, though, is talk to your son. You have to convince him that signing himself out right now is not a good idea. His risk of infection is too high."

"What are you talking about? We covered this yesterday, that Dean wasn't checking himself out," John said in confusion.

"He signed the AMA papers this morning," Dr. Scott confirmed.

_He doesn't have to worry about this stupid disease. I'll kill him myself! _"Did something happen?" John wondered.

"I went in to speak to him this morning about setting up an appointment for surgery..."

"Surgery?" interrupted John. "But I thought..." John paused, trying to remember what the doctor had told him the previous day about the transplant. "I thought you said it was like an IV and..." He stopped abruptly. "Does this mean me or Sam is a match?" John finished hopefully.

"I'm sorry," Dr. Scott apologized. "The HLA typing takes a couple of weeks. It's too early to tell if you and Sam are a match. I didn't mean to word it quite like that."

"Then why does he need surgery?"

"Bone marrow transplants are done through an IV. The reason for the surgery is to implant a Hickman catheter."

"A what?" John asked in confusion.

"It's a central line that we implant in the chest here," Dr. Scott said pointing to a spot on his body. "It allows us to administer IV medications and take blood samples without repeated needle sticks," Dr. Scott explained. "If we find a match, he's going to need one."

"Can't you wait for the transplant?" John asked.

"No. Right now, Dean is at risk for a lot of complications, bleeding being one of them. Even something simple like a blood test can cause uncontrolled bleeding if his platelet count is low enough, and we need to limit the number of transfusions we give him."

"Why?" John asked.

"The more transfusions, the greater the chance of complications during the transplant."

"I'll talk to him," John confirmed, he didn't want to hear about potential complications. "Set up the surgery."

"Here," Dr. Scott said and handed John the permission form and then hesitated.

"What is it?" John said trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

"I know this is a sensitive subject, but..."

"Dad," a voice said from down the hall.

John turned and almost sagged with relief when he saw his youngest son coming down the hall.

"Dr. Scott, is Dean alright?" Sam asked worriedly. He'd gotten about 10 feet away from the motel and realized that no matter how mad he was at his father, he couldn't take that anger out on his brother. Both John and Sam had done that to Dean for most of his life and right now, he was dealing with enough.

"Your brother is doing okay, Sam," Dr. Scott said. He looked toward John. "Mr. Colt, is it okay to talk in front of your son?"

"Yeah, he knows. I told him this morning. What did you want to say? I'm guessing that this has to do with Dean's adoption."

"Yes. What I was going to say is that I have a few pamphlets from organizations that help adoptees find their biological parents. If you or Sam don't match and we can't find a donor from the registry, it may be necessary to try and find them, to see if he has any brothers or sisters who may be a potential match," Dr. Scott said and handed over the other papers he was carrying.

John accepted them and stood staring at the paperwork. He really didn't need them. He had been lying when he had said to Sam that he didn't know who Dean's biological parents were. He had known for a while. In fact, he was trying to decide when to call. If he or Sam didn't match, then his biological father was going to have to be tested. The elder hunter really didn't want to call though, because he was jealous. Dean was _**his **_son and John wanted to be the one to help him, but if he didn't put aside his pride, it could cost Dean his life.

"Thanks doc," Sam managed to say. He was still trying to get past the fact that Dean may have another brother or sister out there somewhere. He was surprised by the feelings of jealousy that started to build up inside him. Dean was _**his**_ big brother.

"Please let me know what Dean decides. Mr. Colt, Sam, again I'm going to overstep my bounds here and give some advice. Talk to your son, no demands, no little brother tactics. What?" Doctor Scott said when he saw the looks on Sam and John's faces. "I'm a little brother too. I know them all. If Dean's going to agree to the transplant, I need him to do it for himself. It's not going to be easy and for it to succeed, I need Dean behind it 100 percent."

"Am I missing something?" Sam asked.

"Your brother decided it would be a good idea to sign himself out," John informed Sam.

"Come on, dad. We better go talk to him. Thanks doc," Sam said again.

"No problem. Don't forget to come to me if you have any questions."

Sam and John made their way into Dean's room. They found him sitting on the edge of his bed, fully dressed.

"Thank God, you're here. Let's go," Dean said.

"Nice try, Dean," Sam said. "What are you thinking? You heard what the doctor said."

"Yeah, it doesn't matter because I'm not doing it," Dean said firmly. "I feel fine," he insisted.

"That's still from the transfusion, Dean," Sam pointed out. "Your symptoms are going to come back." He had to stop himself from pointing out how bad it would be if it happened in the middle of a hunt. He remembered what the doctor had said.

John knew his son and he had a feeling that there was something else bothering him. "Dean, you're an adult. If you want to sign yourself out, I'm not going to stop you."

Both Sam and Dean looked at their father as if he was possessed. "It's really me talking," John continued. "There is a but, though. You have to provide me with a good reason why you want to leave and 'I feel fine' doesn't count, and neither does 'it's too risky'."

"I..." Dean started and then hesitated. What John and Sam didn't know was that Dean had called the doctor back to his room after they had left the previous night, and asked a few questions of his own. He didn't like what he had found out. "It takes at least two weeks to do the testing to find out if you match and then there is at least another week of testing to make sure I can withstand the transplant, then the actual transplant takes about 4-6 weeks to see if it's working. I'm gonna be in here for at least two months and that's only if there are no complications. How are we going to pay for this? The fake insurance cards aren't going to hold up for that long."

"Dean, don't worry about that, okay," John said.

"How can I not?" Dean questioned.

"Because the card I gave the doctor is not fake. Joshua gave it to me for emergencies. He has something in place for hunters who need long term medical treatment and can't afford to use a fake card. I'm not really sure how it works, but everything is covered, so you're going to need a new argument."

"How come you never told us that?" Sam asked.

"I was hoping I would never need it," John said. "Dean," he prompted.

"I just don't want to okay?" Dean tried.

Sam knew Dean's true reason. He had spent some time on his computer looking up information on bone marrow transplants. It took about a year for a person to fully recover from one. Dean didn't want to risk his father taking off without him. Sam felt his heart going out to his brother, that he was so afraid of being alone that he was willing to risk dying to keep his family together.

"We'll be here every step of the way, Dean, both of us," Sam promised his brother and gave his father a pointed look.

"Dean, son, I know that I haven't always been there for you in the past, but I will make you a promise, son. No hunting until you're better," John confirmed.

"You'll stay?" Dean asked in a tone that made him sound like a little boy, almost afraid to believe it.

"Yeah, Dean. I don't care how long it takes."

"What about after I get out of the hospital?" Dean asked. He had to make sure.

"As long as it takes," John confirmed. "I don't care if yellow eyes shows up in the motel room. I'll tell him to go away and come back later," John said sincerely.

"I don't want anything to happen to you or Sammy," Dean said.

"Right now, there's nothing we can do about it, so let's compromise, okay?" Sam asked. "You stay here and when we find out the results of the tests, we'll talk."

"And you agree to have the surgery, Dean," John added and told Sam what the doctor had said earlier. "It'll mean less needles."

Dean looked at his father once more. "You promise to stay?" Dean asked again.

John walked over to Dean and laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Yeah, buddy, I promise," he said sincerely.

"Okay, give me the form," Dean said and signed his name when his father handed it to him.

Sam had to admire his brother. He wished he could have that kind of faith in his father. How many times had he promised Dean something when they were kids, only to have his father forget everything at the first sign of a hunt? Yet Dean always believed when his father said the words to him. Sam was determined that this was one promise that John wouldn't break. He didn't care if he had to tie his father down.

Sam didn't need to worry because this was one promise that John was determined to keep as well.

Dean picked up the gown that he had left on his bed and went back into the bathroom to change. He came out shortly afterward and climbed back into bed.

"Hey, dad," Dean said. "I want to add one other condition," he requested.

"What's that, kiddo?"

"Can you bring me some sweats or some PJs. These damn hospital gowns don't cover a thing."

John and Sam couldn't stop the laughter that erupted from them. It felt so good to laugh.

John said he was going to go track down Dean's doctor and give him the permission form. He paused, turned around and looked back at his boys. The next few months were going to be rough, but they would get through it together, as a family.

John got a few feet away from Dean's room when he heard someone angrily call his name.

_**"JOHN WINCHESTER,**__**WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU CALL ME AND TELL ME MY SON WAS SICK. DON'T YOU THINK I HAD A RIGHT TO KNOW?"**_

John stiffened, turned around and acknowledged the voice for what was sure to be an unpleasant conversation. "Bobby..."

A/N: I promise that how John and Bobby found out will be revealed throught the flashback chapters. Please remember to feed the muse and review. It keeps her happy and reviews are what I live for.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Thanks to Soar for her beta work and for all her advise to improve this chapter. Also thanks to Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for their advise.

Disclaimer: Still don't own them

_1979_

John Winchester followed his wife down the hospital corridor, like a puppy being guided on a leash. He was still processing the fact that he was now responsible for another human life, and he was about to finally that person. He hoped that he would be up to the task.

What should have been a 5 minute walk to the NICU turned into a half hour journey. Mary seemed to know everybody that worked in the hospital and everyone they passed asked Mary how things had gone.

Mary was practically bursting at the seams, telling everyone the good news. They all congratulated her, genuine smiles of happiness on their faces, and told her that Dean was a very lucky boy to have her. Mary disagreed with everyone, she said she was the one who was lucky to have Dean.

They stopped at the desk and once again endured more and hugs and well-wishes. Mary presented the papers from the courts that stated they were Dean's foster parents, giving John permission to visit the NICU.

"We have to wash and gown up," Mary informed her husband. "The babies are easily susceptible to infection."

John followed all his wife's instructions and washed his hands using the sterilizing soap before putting, a paper gown on over his clothes.

"You ready to meet Dean?" Mary asked with an excited grin and glowing eyes.

_God no, I'm so nervous right now I could throw up. _"Yeah, hun, let's go," John said nervously.

Mary led him through the doors. The first thing he encountered was a big squeal and someone grabbing his wife. Tammy knew that there could only be one reason that John was there.

John stood awkwardly behind his wife as she spoke with her friend. Never before had he felt this out of place. God, he really hoped that he had done the right thing by agreeing to this. He gave one last glance at his wife as she finally left Tammy's side and led him over to Dean's incubator. Mary was practically glowing with happiness and that was enough to convince John. He just really hoped he didn't screw this up.

"Hey, little one," Mary greeted Dean affectionately. "I have some good news for you. Remember when I told you that I put my name at the top of the list of the people to look after you? Well they chose me. So when you get out of here, Dean you're going to come and stay with me and your daddy." Mary paused and looked up. "John, you can come closer," she invited. "Meet Dean. Dean, this is your new daddy."

John inched his way beside the incubator and took his first peek inside. He was ashamed to admit, and this would be a secret that he would take to the grave, but when he first looked at Dean, all he saw was tubes. They were everywhere. There were so many tubes that you really could hardly see a baby in there. To John, he looked like a little doll.

"Mary, I am so happy for you," a new voice called from behind them. Both Winchesters turned and saw Dr. Tyler coming up behind them.

Mary greeted the doctor and introduced John.

"Do you want some more good news, Mary?"

"Yeah," she said.

Dr. Tyler didn't say anything he just pointed to a dial on the ventilator. John was wondering what the hell was going on when Mary's face erupted into the biggest smile John had ever seen. "What's going on?" he asked, still feeling awkward. He made a silent promise to himself that he wouldn't get attached until it was permanent. It was the only way he could keep his nerves under control.

"Dean's vent, it's set at assist," Mary said.

"Maybe you could repeat that in English?" John requested.

"When Dean was born, he wasn't strong enough to breath on his own. The vent was doing all the work for him. Right now, it's only helping him to breathe," Dr. Tyler explained. "That's a really big step, and if all goes well, he could be off the vent by the end of the week"

Mary turned toward the incubator. "Hear that, Dean, you're doing great, son," she said proudly, as she lightly stroked his head.

"I saved the best for last," Dr. Tyler said. "Do you want to hold him?"

"You mean it?" Mary asked, almost as if she was afraid to believe it.

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. You have a seat and I'll get him ready," Dr. Tyler said with a gentle smile.

Mary sat down with John beside her. It took several minutes, but Dr. Tyler eventually lifted Dean, tubes and all, out of the incubator and placed him in Mary's arms. John decided that he had never seen his wife look as beautiful as she did in that moment.

"Isn't he just precious, John," Mary said excitedly. "I can't wait until the day we can take him home."

_Be careful, Mary. We may have custody,__but something could still happen, complications, biological parents. _"Yeah Mary, we're lucky people," he said hesitantly.

Mary turned toward her husband. She wasn't used to him sounding so unsure of himself and while she really didn't want to give up Dean, she had a sure fire cure for John's feelings.

"Your turn," Mary said to John.

John felt his heartbeat increase and his breathing speed up. _They wanted him to take the baby__in his arms? Hold him? What if he dropped him? What if he hurt him? There were too many what ifs. He didn't want to do this, he couldn't do this, he..._John's thoughts were cut off when Mary laid the little boy in his arms.

John gazed directly down at baby Dean. Now that he was looking at him, John realized that he was kind of a handsome little tyke. "Hi Dean," he greeted softly.

_I knew it, Mary thought confidently. _

John couldn't take his eyes of the little boy. He was fascinated. John reached out his free hand and took hold of Dean's. "He has a good grip on him, Mare," John addressed his wife as Dean's tiny fingers closed around his. "I'm seeing a pro baseball career in his future." _Football was out. It was too rough. His boy could get hurt. His boy, where the hell did that come from?_

"Okay you two, I hate to do this, but I need to put him back in the incubator," Dr. Tyler said. "It's almost time for his feed."

"A few more minutes?" John asked, almost begging. _Johnny, stop it, you can't get too attached. Someone has to remain level-headed in case something happens. _

"Okay, I'll tell you what, you can hold him until I get back with his nutritional supplement."

"Deal," John said. He hoped that the doctor just took his sweet old time. "Hey Dean," John said. "Looks like it's supper time. I'll come back and see you tomorrow though okay?" John could see the doctor coming back and couldn't believe that he was feeling a sense of panic. He didn't want them to take Dean away. _What the hell is happening to me?__ I have to stay strong, I have to... oh screw it, it's too late anyway. _John held Dean close and gave his son a really gentle hug. "Daddy loves you," he whispered just loud enough for Dean to hear.

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_One Month Later. _

After that first day, John had become a permanent fixture in the NICU and he was there for all Dean's firsts. Like the first time he took a breath without the ventilator, the first time he cried, and the first time he ate from a bottle instead of being fed through a tube. They were both excited the first time they held Dean, when he was free from all his tubes, but none of it compared to the ecstatic feelings they shared when they got the news they could take Dean home.

They were both as nervous as they were excited. Neither parent wanted to let the little boy out of their sight for fear that something would happen to him. They actually spent the entire first night in the nursery with him.

Dean was almost three months old and his weight was up to 8 pounds 9 ounces. He was still small compared to other babies his own age but he had come along way from the 3 pounds, 1 once he waited at birth. Both John and Mary were confidant that he would start to catch up.

The following day, Mary had to run to the store to get groceries. They needed plenty of formula and diapers. They were supposed to keep Dean indoors as much as possible, since his immune system wasn't as strong as other babies. John wasn't quite sure how he had became the one nominated to stay home with the baby though. He didn't think he was ready to be left home alone with Dean.

"Mary, what if Dean needs something and I don't know what it is he wants? What if I hurt him when I pick him up?" John pleaded. He had held Dean many times when he was in the hospital, but someone else had always been the one to put Dean in his arms.

Mary just kissed John's cheek and told him that he and Dean would both be fine. Of course, no sooner had left than John heard Dean's cries coming from the nursery.

John walked in and gazed down at a crying Dean. It was now or never. John leaned over the crib and scooped boy into his arms as gently as he could. He was so tiny.

John checked his diaper and changed him. He laid Dean back in his crib and went to grab a bottle. He heated it and again picked up his boy. _It did get easier each time, he thought to himself. _Then he sat in the rocking chair next to Dean's crib.

John looked down at the little boy in his arms. Dean was wearing a light blue, one piece sleeper that had little black cars on it. He had gone into a model car shop to see if he could find a stuffed car when he had come across the outfit and couldn't resist buying it. The little cars on the outfit reminded him of the Impala. Mary had just smiled indulgently when John had shown it to her.

John though it looked rather handsome on his boy.

John held the bottle to his son's lips and while he fed his son his and smiled tenderly at him. He swore Dean's eyes lit up, as if he was returning his father's feelings. John often though that Dean's eyes were the most beautiful thing on him. They were green, and he couldn't believe how expressive they were. Every time John stared at them, he could see the unconditional love and trust they held. He was determined not to betray it.

"Hey Dean. Can I let you in on something?" John confessed. "You have to promise not to tell okay?" _I must be nuts. _"A few years ago, daddy joined a group called the marines. They're all big, tough men, who aren't afraid of anything. I was a corporal in the Echo 2-1 company and they sent us to a place called Vietnam. I know that being a marine, I wasn't supposed to be scared, but I was. It was hot, and there were lots of mosquitoes and bugs, and lots of other bad things. The entire time I was there, all I could think about was coming home. There were several times I wanted to cry because I missed my parents…" John paused.

"Now, you're probably wondering why daddy is tell you this," John said. "The truth is, Dean, that right now, I'm more scared than I was back then. I don't want anything to happen to you. I swear, that day in the hospital when you gripped my finger, you might as well have just gripped my heart, 'cause I gotta tell you, kiddo, I know why Mary fell in love with you. I did too. The thought of something happening to you, well son, I gotta tell you that hurts more than anything I suffered in Vietnam."

John noticed that Dean had finished his bottle and he shifted Dean over his shoulder and lightly tapped him on the back, so he could burp him. When he was done, John knew that he should put Dean back into his crib but he just wasn't ready to put him down yet. He changed posistions so that Dean was now laying back in his arms, and wrapped his blanket around him. It wouldn't be good for his son to get cold. _God, how did something so small have such power over you. _

John lightly ran his free hand over Dean's head. His hair was growing in, and there was a fine sandy, blond stubble. John and Mary had had may late night discussions over wether or not to tell Dean if he was adopted. They wouldn't have to if they decided against it. With Mary's blond hair and John's dark hair, it was genetically possible for Dean's hair to be the color it was. The same as his eyes. Mary's eyes were green. Mary felt that they owed it to Dean to tell him when he was old enough to understand. John was conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to tell Dean, to let him know just how special he was and just how lucky they were because they got to choose him. On the other hand, John didn't want to because Dean was _**his**_ son. The only thing they didn't talk about was the fact that Dean's biological parents could show up. It hurt to much to think of losing him.

Dean gave a little gurgle, as if he was trying to get his daddy's attention.

"Okay, little man," John said he reached out his free hand and allowed Dean's tiny fingers to grip it. "I know what you're thinking," John continued. "This is too depressing. Well, you're right. We really need to discuss the important stuff, like Baseball. That grip, well it's going to come in handy for your fastball. You're going to be what brings back respect to the Royals. Son, I have to tell you, you have to be loyal to your team. Even if they suck, you gotta stick with them. A team is like family and your mother has a saying, family is everything. You don't cheer for another team just because they're doing better than yours."

John smiled and Dean gave a small sigh of contentment. "I'm so glad you agree. Now, your mom is a soccer fan. If you want to play soccer, that's fine, I'll be right there to cheer you on. Hell son, even if you decided that you want to join ballet, I'll support that too. I'll let you in on another secret. Your mommy made me go to the ballet last year and we saw Romeo and Juliet. I complained all the way through. I mean, after all, I have an image to maintain, but the truth was that I thought it was kind of cool, but if you tell anyone, I swear I'm grounding you for life," he said softly so Dean would know that he wasn't angry.

"Can I get serious for another minute?" John asked. _I must really be losing my mind. "_My father always said the happiest day of a man's life is the day he meets his son. My mom actually used to smack him in the back of the head for that, telling him that he could have had a daughter. The point is, Dean, I know exactly what he meant the day I met you," John said ernestly. He gazed down and saw that Dean's eyes were drifting close.

"Am I boring you?" John asked. "Okay, point taken and now that we got the chick flick moment out of the way, I have another important point. We need to talk about cars," John gave a small laugh as Dean's eyes popped open. "I knew that would get your attention. Your daddy is a mechanic and he owns a 1967 Chevy Impala. It's a classic. My dad gave it to me when I graduated high school and I'll give it to you when you graduate. I can tell you, I had a great time under the hood learning about the car and I hope that we can do the same thing. I really want to give that to you. I never went to college, but that's a bit of knowledge I can pass on to you. I know we're going to be best buddies," John said sincerely. "My father always called me his little buddy and I'm going to call you that too, okay?"

Dean gave a little coo, as his if were giving his approval.

"I'm making you a promise here and now, Dean. You're mine forever. I mean, right now, I definitely have to keep you, because I told you all my secrets and you know too much. Seriously Dean, all joking aside, I love you and I swear that I'll never let go," John stated firmly and with conviction. "Alright, I've talked enough, you close your eyes and get some sleep. It's mommy's turn to get up with tonight and she'll kill me if she finds I kept you up all afternoon."

Dean's face scruched up as John went to stand up. "You win, I'll hold you until you fall asleep. Besides there is one more important thing you need to learn," John said and settled back in the chair. He grabbed a book off the beside table. "Maurice Sendak's _Where the Wild Things Are, _is the greatest book ever written," John said and opening the book to page one and started to read.

That was how Mary found her two boys when she got home that afternoon. John sitting in the chair with a sleeping Dean. She had to work very hard to persuade her husband to put the little boy back in his crib.

John stood over the crib of his sleeping son and decided that life just didn't get any better than this.

A/N: I picked Where the Wild Things Are because I thought it was the perfect book for Dean. For those not famliar with it, its about a little boy named Max, who gets punished for making mischief and sent to his room. In his room, Max's imgaination leads him to have adventures and face mythical creatures, and in the end he finds himself home sick and returns to his family. It seemed to fit.

Please remember to read and review.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Thanks to Soar for the beta, and her feedback. I would also like to thank Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for their feedback on this chapter as well.

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

_**"JOHN WINCHESTER,**__**WHY THE HELL DIDN'T YOU CALL ME AND TELL ME THAT**__**MY SON WAS SICK. DON'T YOU THINK I HAD A RIGHT TO KNOW?"**_

John stiffened, turned around and acknowledged the voice for what was sure to be an unpleasant conversation. "Bobby..."

_**"DON'T BOBBY ME. DEAN IS MY SON TOO, JOHN,**__**AND I HAVE A RIGHT TO KNOW IF THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH HIM!"**_

John glanced toward the door to Dean's room. He grabbed Bobby by the arm and dragged him down the hall. "Damn it Bobby, keep it down. Do you want him to find out?"

"Yes!" Bobby admitted honestly.

"Well, he can't. You're the one that decided against it, remember? You know what it would do to him," John reminded Bobby.

"Talk! Now, John!" Bobby demanded.

"About a week ago, Dean started feeling tired all the time and after a hunt, he had a small cut that wouldn't stop bleeding. I brought him here and they ran some tests and found out that he has aplastic anemia."

"What the hell is that?" Bobby growled.

"It's a disease of the bone marrow. Dean's body isn't producing blood cells," John said robotically.

Bobby paled. "Dean has cancer?"

"No," John said quickly. "I thought the same thing, but it's not cancer, just a lack of cell production."

"What are they doing for him?" Bobby demanded.

"He needs a bone marrow transplant."

"When is this happening?"

"When we find a donor. We need a genetic match."

"And you didn't call me?" Bobby's temper quickly flared again. "How do I give bone marrow?"

"We need a match..." John tried to explain again.

"I'm his father. I'd definitely be a match for my son."

John flinched at Bobby's words. He had never felt so helpless in his life. "It's not that simple, apparently a sibling has a best chance of matching."

Bobby blanched at the thought that there was a possibility that he may not match. "Dean doesn't have any siblings," he confirmed.

John's temper instantly matched Bobby's. "He _**has**_ a brother," John insisted.

"I meant biologically," Bobby replied.

"I know what you meant, but don't, Bobby, don't you ever say that again. Sam and Dean may not be related, but they are brothers, in every way that counts."

"That may be, John, but it doesn't help Dean does it? What are the odds of me matching?" Bobby asked.

"About one in 8. They said that we only give half our DNA to our children. If you want to be tested, just go to the lab and they can take a blood sample. Testing takes about two weeks."

Again, Bobby's face flushed red with anger. "What? Were you going to wait two weeks to see if you matched first, then call me, and then have to wait another two weeks while Dean gets sicker?" Bobby accused.

"That's not it. We just found out yesterday," John defended himself. "How did you find out so quickly?" he questioned.

"I help Caleb monitor the hunter's fund, so when Dean Colt made a claim, imagine my surprise that you didn't call me when _**my**_ son was sick," Bobby huffed.

"Look Bobby, Dean is _**my**_ son," John huffed back, getting territorial.

"John, I can tell him at any time," Bobby threatened.

"You promised, Bobby, you said you wouldn't tell him," John shot back, a flash of fear running through him. _Why was this happening now? _

"I don't want to..."

"Excuse me," a voice interrupted them. Both men turned to see an irate Dr. Scott standing before them. "This is a hospital. I would appreciate you taking your argument outside," he said firmly.

"Sorry," John said contritely. "This is, um, my brother Bobby," John said in a rush. "He wants to get tested."

"Does that mean you managed to change Dean's mind?" Dr. Scott asked.

"He's agreed to stay for now," John replied.

"That's good. I've scheduled the surgery for the day after tomorrow. I'll just stop in to see Dean and let him know. Mr. Colt," the doctor said addressing Bobby. "Just go to the lab and let them know. They can assist you from there," the doctor explained and then continued down the hall.

"What was that about, John? Why does Dean need surgery? What else aren't you telling me? I have a right to know!"

"You gave up any rights you had when you abandoned him!" John shot back, his temper finally getting the better of him. It was a low blow and he knew it. The problem was that he was not in a mood to fight fair.

Bobby's hands involuntarily curled up into fists. He really wanted to haul off and deck the man standing before him. "_**How Dare You**_" Bobby said, his voice low and deadly, indicating that he was seconds away from losing it.

"Dad," another voice from down the hall called. Both men turned and saw Sam walking toward them.

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Sam sat beside his brother's bed, pretending he was reading. Dean was flipping through the channels on his small TV, complaining because there was nothing on. Sam had pointed out that Oprah started in about 15 minutes, and he was still rubbing his arm from where Dean had punched him and told him to shut up.

What the youngest Winchester was really doing was watching his older brother. He was still trying to process the news that his father had told him that morning. Of the two of them, Sam would have bet that it was him who had been adopted. Dean and their dad were so much alike. They had the same hobbies and interests. The only thing they seemed to disagree on was their taste in music, his dad preferred country and western. He even found that Dean looked like their mom from the pictures he had seen. His brother had her eyes.

"Dude, I got something hanging off me or what?" Dean said startling Sam out of his thoughts.

"What?" Sam asked in confusion.

"Quit staring at me. I know my good looks make it hard not to, but dude, it's starting to creep me out."

"I wasn't staring at you. I was trying to see around your fat head to the TV, quit hogging," Sam covered quickly.

Dean looked insulted. "My head is not fat."

"Well then, how do you explain why I can't see the TV. I mean, it's obviously not a problem of seeing over the top of your head," Sam countered.

"I'm not short," Dean protested. "You're just a sasquatch," Dean defended himself.

"No wonder your favourite cartoon was the Smurfs when we were growing up. You can really relate to them, I mean, you're almost as tall as they are," Sam snickered.

"Shut up, Sam!"

Sam was on a roll, however. "I remember, Dean, right after the Smurfs, it was Strawberry _**Short**_cake?"

"At least I didn't cry when the care bears weren't on," Dean shot back.

"Shut up." It was Sam's turn to protest now.

"Don't forget about Rainbow Bright."

"I told you I only watched that because I thought she was hot," Sam tried to defend himself.

"Whatever helps you sleep though the night, Sammy," Dean replied.

"I..." Sam started and stopped. He had never really thought about it before. Dean wasn't small, but both he and their father were taller than Dean. _Guess that explains why._

"It's the bottom of the ninth and Sam strikes out with the bases loaded."

"What the hell are you going on about, Dean?" Sam asked, once again being dragged from his thoughts.

"You never could match me, little brother," Dean said referring to their banter.

Sam couldn't help but flinch at his brother's words, _you never could match. _He just hoped that someone would. He couldn't believe how upset he was over the fact that he may not be able to help his brother.

"Sammy," Dean said, his tone becoming serious when he saw how his little brother had reacted to his words and thought about what he had said. He knew what Sam was hoping for.

"It's okay," Sam said shaking himself out of his funk. "You win," he said. He knew what was coming next and Dean didn't disappoint.

"I win. Are you feeling okay, Sammy? Maybe we should get the doc to check you out," Dean suggested.

"Is everything okay?" Dr. Scott said as he stepped into his patient's room.

"It's fine," Sam insisted.

"I think something's wrong with his head, doc," Dean said motioning to his little brother. "You have a psychiatrist on staff? I think he needs to be heavily medicated."

Dr. Scott smiled indulgently. "I'll see if I can arrange a psych consult for your brother... Sam," the doctor said and his grin turned evil.

"Hey!" Dean protested.

"Sorry man, us little brothers have got to stick together," Dr. Scott replied.

"Big brothers get no respect, I tell you," Dean said pretending to sound hurt. "What's up?"

"I'm here to tell you that we have your surgery set up for the day after tomorrow. Is that okay with you?" Dr. Scott asked.

"Not really," Dean confirmed. "But I guess, if I have no choice, it's fine," he replied and shifted his gaze to his hands.

Neither Sam nor Dr. Scott missed the change that had come over the young hunter as the tension in the room grew. Sam decided it was best not to comment and turned his attention back to the papers he was reading. He had printed off everything he could find on bone marrow donation and transplants and was trying to concentrate on it. No sooner had he glanced at his newest page when he realized that they had a really big problem. _How the hell had they missed this? He had to go find his father, __**right now!**__ Speaking of which, where was he?_

"Um, I'm going for coffee, I'll be right back," Sam said standing up and heading toward the door.

"Bring me one, would you?" Dean asked.

Sam looked toward Dr. Scott who nodded and Sam quickly left. He found his father a short way down the hall and he was shocked to see that Bobby was there too.

Sam didn't know the whole history between them, except that it was rocky. Sam had memories of staying with "Uncle Bobby" when he was younger, but then, when he was about 11 or 12, they had left Bobby's salvage yard abruptly one day and from that point, they hardly saw the man and when they did, things were always tense between the two older men. Except whenever something bad was going on, or they were in trouble, because Bobby was always there to help. Sam didn't even pretend to understand the relationship between Bobby and his dad.

"Dad," he called and walked up to his father.

"What's up, Sam? How's Dean?" Bobby asked with a touch of worry in his tone.

"He's fine. The doctor's giving him a check up and telling him about the surgery. He agreed to it," Sam said anticipating his father's next comment. "It's just that we have a big problem."

"What now?" Both John and Bobby said in unison.

"I printed this off the internet last night. It talks about isolation procedures during the transplant. Did you know that during the entire process, Dean's going to be in isolation?" Sam explained.

John groaned and swore.

"Dean's not going to react well to that," Bobby pointed out.

"Really, thanks for clearing that up," John said sarcastically.

"I thought I said to take this elsewhere,' Dr. Scott said as he came up to the small group.

"Sorry," both men apologized again.

"Now, I can tell something's on your mind, Sam, from the way you bolted out of that room," Dr. Scott said.

"What about the isolation room?" Sam blurted out.

"What about it"?" Dr. Scott asked.

"How does that work? We can still see Dean, right? He won't do it if..." Sam said frantically.

"Calm down, son," Dr. Scott said sharply. "Take a deep breath," he paused and waited for Sam to follow his instructions. "Yes, Dean is going to be placed into isolation, which can be scary for patients, but he can still have visitors. You just have to gown and glove up. You'll be right by his side through this whole thing."

"Good, I'm going to go see him now," Bobby stated firmly.

"Mr. Colt," the doctor said regretfully. "You can visit Dean now, but after he's in isolation, it's immediate family only. Aunts and uncles are not usually allowed to visit a patient in isolation."

Bobby stopped short. "Excuse me?" he said glaring at the doctor.

"It's for Dean's protection," Dr. Scott tried to explain and before he could say anything more, his beeper went off. "I'm sorry, but I have to take this. Give me about an hour and I'll come by Dean's room and answer all your questions," he confirmed.

"Forget it, John," Bobby snapped. "You're not keeping me away. I have a right to be here."

"I don't know where you're coming from, I never said anything about keeping you away, but Bobby, I don't make the rules," John said defensively.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" Bobby accused.

"Are you kidding me?" John snapped in disbelief. "What about this entire situation do you think I find amusing?"

"You're not keeping me out of Dean's room, now or later," Bobby said ignoring John.

Sam's head was going back and forth like a tennis ball as he watched his father and Bobby go at it. _Had__he missed__something?_

_"_Dad," Sam said, but neither man heard him.

"Do you really think this is the time to be having this argument, Bobby? They're going to throw both of us out of here," John cautioned.

"Dad," Sam tried again but Bobby's next words took the thought right out his head.

"Right or wrong, the fact remains that I'm Dean's father and you're not keeping me from him." With that, Bobby turned and stalked off down the hall, leaving Sam standing there, staring at his father in disbelief. Had he heard that right?

A/N: I honestly have no idea what the rules are for visiting patients in isolation, I did a search, but the only thing I could find was that it varies between hospitals, so I made up the part about visitors being immediate family only.

The next flashback chapter will be dedicated to how Bobby found out about Dean, I figured that was better than just having it reduced to a couple of paragraphs in this chapter.

Please remember to read and review. It keeps the muse happy.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Thanks to Soar for the beta job, any left over mistakes are completely my own. Thanks to Soar, Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for all their suggestions on how to make this chapter better.

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

1982

Bobby Singer stood out on the porch of the run-down little house and looked out at the salvage yard in front of him. He'd applied for a job as manager of Layton Auto Salvage and hadn't really expected to get it, due to his lack of experience. He considered it a miracle when the current owner, Rodney Layton, had told him that he had been chosen. It had been a long and hard road to get to this point. He moved to go sit on the bench and thought about everything that had brought him there.

Anthony Robert Singer had been born and raised in South Dakota. His mother, Sarah Singer, was a good woman, but she had been poor. His father, Robert Singer, had died in a construction accident just after he was born, and his mother had struggled to make ends meet and put food on the table after that. Then, one day, a meddlesome counsellor at his school had called social services. A well meaning, but totally misguided social worker had decided that his mother couldn't look after him properly. To this day, Bobby still shuddered at the memory of literally being ripped out of his mother's arms.

They'd put him in a foster home, telling him that it was only temporary until his mother got a job and could look after him better. Tony had wondered why they took him away from a woman that loved him and put him in a home with strangers that hurt him and treated him like a servant. He didn't get how he was better off now. When he had told the social worker what was happening, she told him that it wasn't nice to make up stories.

Days turned in weeks, weeks into months, and then months turned into years, as little Anthony Singer was shuttled from one home to the next. They always found some excuse for why he couldn't just go home. Then came the worst day of his life.

Devastated by the loss of first her husband and then her son, Sarah Singer fell into a deep depression. She had begged the authorities to give her little boy back, but they kept telling her that it would just be a little longer, she just needed to be able to take care of him better. She eventually fell ill and just kept getting sicker and sicker.

Everything went downhill for Tony after his mother's death. He got into some trouble and his current foster parents had sent him back to the home. He went to a children's shelter and it was then that he got his first break in a long time.

One of the nurses who worked in the children's home infirmary had taken a liking to the troubled young man, and ended up becoming his new foster mother. She and her husband were unable to have children of their own and they had treated him like a son. It was under their care and guidance that Tony Singer flourished. Deciding that he needed a new start, he also started going by his middle name, Robert, or Bobby. It had been his dad's name and, by coincidence, it was his foster father's name as well.

When he turned 18, he was technically no longer a foster kid, but the Dixons had told him that he would always have a home with them, so he was especially pleased when he found out that he had received a scholarship to the University of South Dakota. It allowed him some independence by living in the dorm, but he was still close enough to the Dixon's that he could see them regularly.

His first three years at college went by smoothly. Then, in his senior year, he met a 19 year old sophomore, Amanda Newton. He had been assigned to be her math tutor. The two had hit it off from the start and had begun dating soon after. Then Bobby made the biggest mistake of his life when she came to him with news that changed his life.

_"_You're kidding, right? Please tell me this is some prank," the 22 year old had begged.

"You really think this is something I would joke about, Bobby?" Amanda, or Mandy as she liked to be called, asked her boyfriend in disbelief. "How could you even think for a minute that I would make something like this up? I'm pregnant and we have to deal with it."

Bobby was panicking. He was in school, he made $6.00 dollars an hour tutoring and about $500 dollars per month working part time at a garage in town. His foster father had taught him everything he knew about cars. He couldn't look after a baby, hell, he could barely look after himself.

"I can't look after a baby," he said in a scared tone.

"I can't either. I want to finish school and I have plans that don't involve being a mother right now, not to mention the fact that my parents will never speak to me again once they find out. I say we give the baby up for adoption."

Bobby froze at the words. He was torn, he had grown up in the system and he didn't want his child to be exposed to it in any way, shape or form, but he knew that he wasn't responsible enough to take on the responsibility himself. Panic was starting to set in and when he panicked, he often spoke without thinking and said things he didn't mean. "How could you let this happen?" he suddenly accused.

"Don't you dare blame this on me," Mandy snapped back. "You were there when it happened."

"Are you sure?" Bobby blurted out before he could stop himself.

Mandy looked like she had just been slapped. "Are you asking what I think you're asking?" she asked, her tone expressing just how hurt she was by Bobby's words.

"Yeah, I guess I am," Bobby confirmed.

_**"HOW DARE YOU, ROBERT SINGER!" **_Mandy screamed at him.

"Keep your voice down. Do you want the whole world knowing your business?"

"My business?" Mandy replied in disbelief. "It takes two to make a baby, Bobby. That makes it our business."

"You still haven't told me if it's mine."

With that, Mandy reached out and slapped Bobby hard. "I'm not some slut. I loved you, but don't worry, I won't bother you again. I'll take care of this," Mandy said angrily and then she turned and stormed off.

Exactly what he had said hit Bobby like a ton of bricks. After calling himself every derogatory name in the book, he tried to run after her. "Mandy, wait," he called.

Mandy ignored him and refused to acknowledge his cries. She avoided him after that. He tried to call, but she would hang up on him, letters were returned unopened, and if he tried to knock on her door, her roommate told him she was out.

He stopped trying to contact her for about two weeks, justifying his behaviour by telling himself that he was just trying to give her some space, but the more he thought about it, the more being a father appealed to him. He was sure that the Dixons would help out by looking after the baby during the day, and he and Mandy could look after it at night. He was almost done with school now, so he could always work at the garage and finish school at night. He just had to get Mandy to talk to him.

He called her roommate and begged her to ask Mandy to meet with him the next day. He said a prayer for the first time in a long time when she agreed. He showed up at her place with an apology and his plan to make things work.

Mandy couldn't explain what came over her that day. She looked into Bobby's eager face and wanted to hurt him, just like he had hurt her. She didn't know why she said it, but the next words out of her mouth were, "It doesn't matter. I had a miscarriage. You're free," she said bitterly.

The words stung Bobby to the core and he felt saddened at the loss of what could have been. Mandy then informed him that she never wanted to see him again, and asked him to leave. He never saw her again.

Time went on, as it always did, and Bobby graduated with honors, getting a degree in business management and dreams of some day opening his own garage. He got a job working for a local mechanic when he saw an advert looking for a manager at Layton Auto Salvage. Figuring that he had nothing to lose, he applied. He never expected to actually get the job, as he had no actual experience managing, but the owner said that he saw something in Bobby that reminded him of himself.

Then Bobby found out that Rodney Layton and his wife were buying a house in Florida because they were getting older, and found the winters in South Dakota too cold, so he could rent the house too, if he wanted to. Things were really starting to go his way.

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Bobby shook himself out of his memories, he had a lot of work to do. He went into the house to start unpacking. He had gotten no further than emptying one box when he heard a knock on the door.

He opened the door and found his foster father standing there.

"Hey Rob," he greeted and invited the older man in.

"Hey Bobby. Helen wanted me to bring this to you. She's concerned about you not eating right."

"Thanks dad," Bobby said and accepted the bag of food. "Tell mom I'll call her tonight."

Rob Dixon grinned. He loved it when Bobby called him that. He didn't even think Bobby realized that he referred to his foster father equally as Rob or dad. It was the same with his foster mother. Neither acknowledged it though, not wanting their son to stop.

"I will," Rob said and glanced at his watch. "I'd better go, I have to get to work. If you need help, son, don't hesitate to call, okay?"

"I won't and thanks, dad," Bobby said as he showed his father out the door.

Later that evening, Bobby was sitting down in his favourite chair, reading a book, when the phone rang. It was a call that would change his life forever.

"Hello," he said.

_"Are you Mr. Anthony Singer?" the voice asked._

Bobby could feel his heart speed up. He hadn't been Anthony in a long time. "Yes, why?" he answered and tried to keep his voice from shaking.

_"My name is Alison Redding. I'm a nurse at the Mercy Memorial Hospital in Clearwater, Kansas," she explained. _

Bobby didn't know anyone from there. "What's up?" Bobby questioned.

_"Do you know an Amanda Beth Newton?"_

Bobby's heart stopped in his chest. He hadn't thought about Mandy in a long time. Not since she had lost the baby_. Why was she calling him? _"Yes, why?"

"I'm sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, Mr. Singer, but Ms. Newton was killed in a car accident last week. She had been in critical condition and she didn't survive her injuries."

Bobby sat down heavily. "Why are you calling me?"

_"Because before she died, she asked me if I would call you and give you a message."_

"What's that?" he asked. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know.

_"She said that your son is alive."_

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Bobby spent the next half hour on the phone, trying to get as much information out of the nurse that he possibly could. She didn't know much, just that Mandy had told her that she had given birth to a son and had been trying to track him down. She said that she had started to make progress and had discovered that her child had lived. That was all she knew before Mandy couldn't talk anymore.

After he hung up the phone, Bobby stood there staring at it for a good hour. His emotions were all mixed up, sadness, anger, and fear being the dominant ones.

He had a child out there. Mandy had never miscarried. Where was he? Was he happy? Healthy? What was his name?

Acting on instinct, Bobby reached into his wallet and pulled out an old faded photograph of his mother and him. He missed her more at that moment than at any other time in his life. He shuddered as the memory of literally being ripped out of her arms overcame him. He had grown up in the system that his son was now in.

He knew that things were a lot better than when he had been a child, but he also knew that kids could fall through the cracks. He didn't even want to think about some of the homes he had lived in.

The next afternoon, he went to the cemetery to visit his mother's grave and told her everything. It felt good to get that secret off his chest. After that, he went to the Dixons and confessed everything to them. They talked long into the night, and they helped Bobby reach the conclusion that he wanted to find his son.

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_1 year later._

Bobby sat in his car, out in front of the Little Sunshine Day Care. He hoped that he remained inconspicuous, because it wouldn't look good for someone to notice a grown man parked in front of a day care, watching the kids come and go, but Bobby knew this was the best place he had to catch a glimpse of his son.

When Bobby had made the decision, Rob and Helen were behind him all the way. Despite his protests, they loaned him money to hire a private investigator. He had hired a man by the name of Caleb Graham. From what Bobby could tell, Caleb could dig up information on anything, or anyone. It was the longest year of Bobby's life, waiting for Caleb to find out something.

He'd learned that Mandy had given birth at the local hospital in Lawrence, Kansas at 7 months, and that the baby had not been expected to survive, but against all odds, he had. He had been adopted by his nurse and her husband, and his name was James Dean Winchester.

Bobby had scoffed at that. Was it some kind of joke? He knew first hand how bad the foster care and adoption system could be. He just hoped that these Winchesters were treating his boy alright. If they weren't, he was fully committed to becoming a kidnapper.

The sounds of children caused him to look up and his breath caught in his throat when he caught the first glimpse of his son, as the small blond boy hurled himself into his mother's arms.

He continued to watch discretely as the boy showed his mom something and the woman laughed and hugged him. He was glad that James seemed happy, but Bobby did notice that the boy seemed several inches shorter than the other kids. He really hoped that these people were treating James alright. Then the woman and the boy got into a car and left the nursery behind, Bobby tailing them, he just hoped that they didn't notice that they were being followed. They picked up a man Bobby assumed to be John, and drove on to a local restaurant. Bobby followed the small family inside, grabbed a newspaper and took the booth behind them so he could hear every word.

"Did you have fun at daycare?" John asked his son.

"Yeah, daddy, Miss Karen had us draw a picture of our family. Wanna see it?"

"You know I do. Is it under your shirt?" John asked and reached over and tickled the boy.

"Stop," Dean said with a laugh. "It's in my school bag." He dug through his bag and handed it to his father.

John looked at the drawing in his hand and saw three stick figures and what he guessed was a car. He had to stifle a laugh that Dean had included the Impala in his drawing.

"This is great, Dean. Can I take it to work and hang it on the wall of my office?"

"'Course, daddy," Dean agreed and the waitress came over and took their order.

"I'll have the spaghetti and meatballs," John ordered.

"Can I have that too, daddy?" Dean asked.

"Don't you want your chicken nuggets, baby?" Mary asked.

"No," he said stubbornly. "I want sketti and meatballs like daddy, and I'm not a baby," he insisted.

"Make that three orders of spaghetti and meatballs then," Mary decided. She wasn't surprised. These days, Dean insisted on doing everything just like his dad. Mary thought it was kind of cute and decided to enjoy it while it lasted.

"Coming right up," the waitress said and left.

Bobby couldn't help but smile as well. His son truly did look loved and happy. He felt a pang of regret. It could have been him that Dean had handed the picture to, for his office wall.

The waitress came by a short time later and brought their order. She set the plate in front of the small boy and handed a large stack of napkins to his mother. Mary smiled gratefully at the waitress. She gave John a pointed look. He immediately caught on and grabbed a napkin, tucking it under his shirt. As if on cue, a minute later Dean did the same thing, as Mary had known he would.

Dean eyed his plate warily and tried to decide if he had done the right thing by not ordering his nuggets. He wondered if it was too late to get some. He glanced over at his father and watched as John twirled the spaghetti on his fork. That looked like fun.

Trying to avert disaster, Mary reached over to try and cut the spaghetti up.

"No," Dean immediately protested. "I want to do it like daddy," he insisted and tried to imitate his father's gesture. He got more on him, than in him, but he discovered one thing. Sketti was really good.

"Yummy," he said.

Bobby saw the waitress approach a short time later and offer dessert. John and Mary ordered coffee and some ice cream for Dean. While they were waiting, John escorted his young son to the bathroom. He was covered in spaghetti sauce. They returned just in time for the waitress to return with the ice cream.

"Can I have an extra spoon please?" Dean asked politely.

"Sure, honey," the waitress said and went to get it.

"Dean, what do you need that for?" Mary questioned when the waitress brought the extra utensil.

Dean scooped up a big spoonful of the frozen treat and ate it. He turned to waitress.

"I'm gonna be a big brother," he told the waitress proudly.

"You are?" she said sweetly.

"Yup. Baby Sammy is in mommy's tummy, that's why you can't see him," Dean explained seriously. "I want a brother, not no yucky sister," Dean said.

"I have a big brother and he's the best. I bet you're gonna be an awesome big brother."

Dean gave her a great big smile. "Yup. I wanted a brother for a long time. That's why I need the extra spoon. Mommy said I can teach Baby Sammy things. I want to show him how good ice cream is."

Everyone around him smiled at the statement.

Bobby didn't know what to do now. He'd had every intention of finding and getting his son back, but the Winchesters obviously loved his son and Dean seemed to love them. He didn't want to put his boy through what he had gone through, but he wanted to be a part of his son's life. He honestly wasn't even sure if he had any legal rights. He decided that the best thing to do was go see a lawyer to find out where he stood. He was going to raise his hand to signal for the waitress to see if he could get a phone book, when the next part of the Winchesters' conversation stopped him cold.

Mary accepted the spoonful of ice cream Dean gave her for his brother and ate it. She didn't want to hurt Dean's feelings.

"You're going to be the best big brother, Dean," Mary said proudly. "You have such a big heart."

"Is that why they have to operate on my heart, 'cause it's too big?" Dean asked.

_His son needed heart surgery. What was wrong with him? He was four years old, Bobby thought _

"That's right, Dean-o. Your heart was too big, your body couldn't fill it in properly, and it left a tiny hole, right here," Mary said in a patient tone and pointed to spot on Dean's chest.

_Open heart surgery at four_. Bobby felt his own heart break.

"Will it hurt, mommy?"

"You'll be asleep, honey," Mary said sadly as she soothed Dean's hair away from his forehead. "When you wake up, daddy and I will be with you. If it hurts when you wake up, the doctor can give you some medicine to make it stop."

Bobby really liked the way Mary was talking to Dean. He remembered a time when he'd broken his leg and had to have it set surgically. They hadn't told him anything about what was happening. He remembered being scared and desperately wanting his mother. He could tell that Mary had explained everything to Dean several times, but would do it several more, until he felt comfortable with it.

"I'm scared," Dean said in a tone that indicated he was close to tears.

John reached over, pulled Dean into his lap and gave him a hug. "It's okay to be scared, buddy. Operations can be scary."

"Did you have to have your heart operated on, daddy?" Dean asked.

"Not my heart, but when I was a bit older than you, they had to take my appendix out. I was scared too, but afterwards, I got to have lots and lots of ice cream."

"I like ice cream," Dean said. "Can I have chocolate?"

"As much as you want, Dean-o," Mary confirmed. "Just think, when you get your surgery over with, you'll be so much better, and you'll grow up big and strong," Mary said patiently.

"Like daddy?" Dean said in a tone that indicated that this was the most important thing.

"Just like daddy, Dean," Mary confirmed.

"And you won't get tired as fast when you're playing with your friends," John added.

"No more yucky naps," Dean stated firmly. It wasn't a question.

"Right," John replied. Dean hated to nap.

The little boy snuggled deeper into his father's chest. "I still don't want to go to the hospital."

Bobby watched as John held the boy tighter and he could tell the man was trying not to cry, that he would take his son's place in an instant. He watched John lean over and whisper something in the boy's ear. He wondered what it was when he saw Dean giggle. "I love you, daddy," the little boy said.

"Me too, buddy," John replied. "Let's go home. I think Fraggle Rock's on tonight. I love that show," John said.

"Tell you what, Dean. You don't have to go to daycare tomorrow, and I'm off work, and I bet Daddy's boss will give him the day off too. Let's go see a movie."

"Yeah. Can we, mommy?" Dean cheered.

"'Course, it's a date," Mary agreed.

Bobby watched the Winchesters leave the diner, his mind going back to the day they dragged him away from his mother. He'd yelled, screamed and cried, but no one seemed to care. He couldn't do that to his son. He knew what he had to do, and it broke his heart. His son obviously had parents that loved him, and if he was facing surgery, he was going to need them to get through it, not some man he didn't know.

Even though his heart was breaking, Bobby walked out the door and headed in the opposite direction of the Winchesters, pausing only long enough to catch one last glimpse of the boy in the back seat of the Impala and whispered, "'Bye Dean, daddy loves you," and then continued on his way, he didn't even try to stop the tears that started to fall.

TBC

Please remember to hit the little purple button and reveiw. Even just one makes me happy.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Thanks to Soar for the beta job, and thank you to Soar, JuliaAurelia, and Sinead-Conlan for all their help and suggestions with this chapter. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

"Right or wrong, the fact remains that I'm Dean's father and you're not keeping me from him." With that, Bobby turned and stalked off down the hall, leaving Sam standing there, staring at his father in disbelief. Had he heard that right?

"Dad?" Sam asked.

John knew what his son was asking. He had really been hoping it wouldn't come to this. John sighed. "Yeah Sam, it's true."

"Bobby is Dean's father?" Sam asked in disbelief. He was still trying to wrap his head around what his father had told him. "The other day..." Sam trailed off and his temper instantly flared. "I can't believe you," he accused.

John could tell that Sam was gearing up for an argument. He'd experienced it often enough when the boys were growing up. "Sam, not here, not now, okay," John pleaded. If they got caught arguing in the hall, they could get kicked out.

"Yes dad," Sam insisted. "Now!"

John sighed. "Follow me, I need some air."

John and Sam made their way outside. Things were extremely tense between them and Sam remained as wound up as a coiled spring. John could tell he was ready to burst at any minute. As soon as they stepped outside, Sam exploded.

_**"HOW COULD YOU!"**_ Sam roared.

"Sam..."

But Sam was not about to let John get a word in. "I asked you, dad. I said, do you know who Dean's parents are. You looked me in the eye and said you knew almost nothing about them, yet you know everything about them, so I'll ask you again, _**HOW COULD YOU?"**_

**"**It's complicated, Sam," John tried to explain.

"It's complicated," Sam scoffed. "Let me make it real simple then, okay? Dean. Could. Die. Do you get that? Does that make it clear for you?"

"Samuel, you will listen to me..."

"No dad, for once in your life, you're going to listen to me. I'm so sick of this need to know BS. I mean, Christ, don't you think that this is something the doctor needed to know. This isn't some hunt we're going on, Dean's fighting for his life. Is your pride that important?" Sam accused.

"It wasn't like that. I was going to call Bobby, I swear."

"It's so easy to say that now, isn't it?"

"I don't care if you believe me. Bobby's here, he's getting tested. Now, excuse me, I'd like to get back to _**my**_ son," John said tiredly. He really didn't want to fight. He tried to step around his youngest son, but Sam wouldn't let him.

"No!" he ordered.

"Excuse me?" John growled.

"Bobby's in there. I don't want the two of you going off at each other. "

"I'll behave, Sam, I prom..."

"I'm not Dean, dad." Sam interrupted. "The words, 'I promise', don't hold as much meaning with me. I don't want you and Bobby sniping at each other and don't tell me you won't," Sam said cutting of John's protest. "If you go in there right now, you're both going to say something that Dean's going to pick up on. He's not stupid, dad."

"I know that," John said defensively.

"I don't care. I don't want you and Bobby in that room together until you both stop trying to show the other who's boss. I'm going back to Dean's room. What you're going to do is go find Dr. Scott and get permission for Bobby to visit Dean. He's not going to take the isolation news well and like it or not, Bobby is important to Dean, and we could use his help to get Dean through this. It's going to be rough on all of us and the last thing Dean needs is the two of you using him to mark your territory. Now excuse me, I'm going to see _**my**_ brother." With that, and before John could say anything, Sam turned and stalked off back into the hospital.

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John watched as Sam turned and headed back into the hospital. Part of him was fuming at the fact that Sam had dared to speak to him like that. The other half was filled with shame because he knew that Sam was right about everything he had said. He should have admitted that he knew who Dean's father was. John rubbed his hand against his forehead, hoping to stave off the headache he could feel brewing behind his eyes.

He decided to go find Dean's doctor, but when he remembered that Dr. Scott was dealing with an emergency, he went back to Dean's floor and stood a few feet away so he could head the doctor off at the pass. It felt like hours before the doctor showed up.

"Dr. Scott," John said to get his attention.

"Mr. Colt, I was just on my way to see you."

"Can we put off telling Dean about the isolation until after his surgery? It's going to upset him, badly, and he really doesn't need it before he goes under the knife."

"Of course," Dr. Scott said agreeably, his curiousity rising. He had heard a few times about his patient's potential reaction.

"Doc, are you sure there's no way you can make an exception for my brother? He and Dean are really close."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Colt. I truly am, but as I said, it's for Dean's protection. He's going to be extremely vulnerable to infection. We need to limit the number of people around him," Dr. Scott said regretfully. "I'm already making an exception for your other son."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"Normally, isolation rules are parents or grandparents if the patient is a minor, and parents or spouses if the patient's married. Brothers and sisters are usually not permitted, but given how close your boys are, I think it would do more harm than good to keep Sam out."

John had to agree. He knew that the only way to get Bobby in was to admit the truth. He took a deep breath. "Bobby isn't just Dean's uncle," John confessed. "He's Dean's biological father."

"Excuse me?" Dr. Scott said his surprise obvious on his face.

"It's a really, really long story and one I would prefer not to tell," John said honestly. "Just tell me, does it give Bobby permission to visit Dean?"

The doctor could tell that there was a lot going on here, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to know the full story. He had a feeling that the two men weren't really brothers, but of course, he couldn't say anything because he had no right to call them liars. If it would keep the peace for his patient, then who was he to stop it. "I'll allow it, but I'm warning you, Mr. Colt, my first loyalty is to my patient. If any of this threatens to complicate his recovery, or his treatment, I won't hesitate to bar all of you," Dr. Scott said in tone that left John knowing the man was serious.

"I promise," John said quickly.

"Now Mr. Colt, is there anything else you have to tell me about Dean? This isn't the time for secrets."

"He had surgery to repair a hole in his heart when he was four. I didn't keep it from you deliberately, it just happened so long ago that I don't think about it that much," John said. This was actually a partial truth. It had been a rough time and he didn't like to think about it.

"He should have a scar, even a small one." Dr. Scott said with a raised eyebrow.

One of John's contacts, a voodoo priestess, had some paste that she used that took care of scars, but he obviously couldn't say that. "Dean was always self conscious about it in school, so we had one of those procedures that got rid of it. It's not going to complicate things, is it?"

"It shouldn't, but thank you for telling me," Dr. Scott said. He was really starting to feel for his patient.

John thanked the doctor and went back to Dean's room.

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Dean looked up when he heard a noise, and was surprised to see Bobby. They saw him infrequently, but the two of them had always gotten along. He'd known there was an argument between Bobby and his father, but like Sam, he didn't even try to understand the relationship between Bobby and his father. The only thing Dean knew was that he often felt at ease in the other man's presence. It had been that way ever since they met.

"Hey Bobby," Dean greeted the man. "How'd you know I was here?"

"Hey son," Bobby said using the term of endearment as he needed the connection to his son. "I monitor the hunter's fund for Joshua. When I saw one of your aliases come up, I decided to check it out. How are you feeling?"

"Fine. I keep telling dad and Sam that, but they don't seem to listen," Dean said.

"You sure about that?" Bobby asked. He was never one to let Dean hide behind his walls.

"Alright, I'm a little tired," Dean admitted grudgingly.

"Your dad told me everything," Bobby said. "Is your hip still sore?" He noticed that Dean was more fidgety than usual.

"A little stiff, but it doesn't hurt," Dean said honestly.

"That's good," Bobby said. He hated the thought of Dean in pain.

Before either could say anything more, they were joined by first Sam and then John a short time later. Things were a little tense, but both men managed to remain civil to each other.

The next day passed much too quickly for Dean's liking. Bobby, John and Sam were all nervous about Dean's surgery, so while Dean was in the OR, Sam took advantage and used the time to lay down the ground rules for both John and Bobby, much like Dr. Scott had. They had also decided that Sam would be the one to explain to Dean about the isolation room. He had a way of getting through to his big brother that no one else did.

"Dean's Colt's family," they heard a nurse call some time later.

"How's Dean?" all three men said at once and got up to go join the nurse.

The nurse smiled. "There were no complications. Dr. Scott will be here in a minute and he'll take you to see Dean."

"Thank you," Sam said politely.

The doctor joined them shortly afterward. "Did Susan tell you that there were no complications?"

"Yeah," John said in a relieved tone. "Can I see him?"

"He's in recovery right now. He should be settled shortly, Mr Colt."

"Thanks doc," John said. "Please call me John, with my brother here, it could get confusing."

"Alright, John. I'll be back in about a 1/2 hour and I can take one of you into the recovery room. He'll be there for a couple of hours until the anaesthesia wears off, then he'll be moved back to his room."

When he was taken into Dean's recovery room, the first thing that John saw was the bag of blood that was hanging on Dean's IV pole, leading to a needle in the back of his left hand. He thought that Dean wasn't supposed to be getting transfusions, as they could complicate his transplant. What also alarmed John was the nasal cannula resting under Dean's nose.

"I thought you said there were no complications," John accused.

"There weren't," Susan said. "His blood counts were a little low on account of the surgery, and his pulse ox was low as well. It's to be expected. He shouldn't need it in a day or so."

"What about the transfusion? I thought he wasn't getting anymore. Don't they stop the transplant from working?" John asked in a demanding tone.

"We try to limit them. Too many can cause antibodies to build up in the blood stream, but sometimes it's unavoidable. Like today, we had to give Dean a transfusion because his platelets are low. We had to make sure there was no uncontrolled bleeding during the surgery. There wasn't," she finished, anticipating John's next question. "Aplastic anemia affects all blood cells, so when Dean's red cells are low, so are his oxygen levels. The cannula is actually more precautionary at this point and as I said, we should be able to remove it tomorrow."

"How come you have the IV then? Didn't you put that Hick thing in his chest so you wouldn't have to stick him?" John wanted to know.

"Hickman Catheter," the nurse corrected. "That's true. We want to give the site of the new catheter about 24 hours to heal before we starting using it, though."

"Can I see it?" John asked.

"Sure," Susan agreed and pulled back the covers and Dean's hospital gown.

John could see a long white plastic tube coming out of a spot just above Dean's heart. The end of the catheter branched off into three openings and John's stomach churned a little at the sight of it.

"The fancy word for it is triple lumen catheter. It just means that there are three ports we can use for medications or drawing blood."

"Is it hurting him?" John asked in a concerned tone.

"There's a small cuff just under the skin that helps hold the tube in place, located here," Susan said and pointed to the spot where the catheter exited Dean's chest. "Most people feel some pressure, and it can be a little uncomfortable for the first couple of days, but after that, he probably won't even notice it."

John was silent for a moment and the nurse asked if he had any more questions. He didn't and he turned back to his son and lightly stroked the hair on Dean's head. Right now, he wasn't seeing a 27 year old man, he was seeing his four year old son and his heart was breaking. He wished with all his heart that he could take Dean's place.

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While John was sitting with Dean, Sam and Bobby were in the Impala, making a run to the local coffee house. Since it would be a while before they could see Dean, they had decided to take a break and sit in the restaurant to drink theirs.

There was a tension filled, awkward silence between first, neither really knowing what to say. It was Sam that broke the silence. He had to know.

"Bobby, about Dean?"

"It's kind of a long story."

"Everything is. We've got time," Sam insisted.

Bobby took a deep breath and told Sam everything. About Mandy getting pregnant, him denying the baby, Mandy telling him she had a miscarriage and about the phone call, deciding to find Dean and his reason for not pursuing custody.

"Bobby, does Dean have any brothers or sisters on his mom's side? I mean, you know, potential candidates to be a donor match?" Sam asked, unable to hide the hint of jealousy in his tone.

Bobby gave a tiny grin. He knew about feeling territorial. "Not that I know of. Mandy was only 19 when she had Dean, and she died at 22. It's possible that she could have had another child, but I would seriously doubt it. She had plans to get a teaching degree. She didn't want children that early in her life."

"Why would she just walk out on him? Why not put him up for adoption the right way?"

"I wish I had answers for you, Sam, but I don't. It's possible that we may never know," Bobby said regretfully. "If I could go back to that day Mandy told me and do it all over again, I would do so many things differently."

"I'm glad you can't," Sam blurted out before he could stop himself and continued quickly at Bobby's hurt expression. "It's just that, if you did things differently, I wouldn't have my big brother," Sam explained.

Bobby instantly melted at the expression on Sam's face. He looked so lost at the thought that he could not only lose Dean, but that a few simple words almost meant that he never would have had him in the first place. "I understand," Bobby said simply.

"God, this is all so weird, it's so hard to wrap my head around it. I just want Dean to be okay," Sam said sounding 4 instead of 24.

"Dean's a fighter, Sam. Has been since the day he was born," Bobby said trying to convince himself as well as Sam.

Sam gave a small sad smile. "It doesn't matter if he has nothing to fight with. I mean, what if none of us are matches? What then?"

"Then we use resources medical science doesn't have," Bobby indicated in a tone that said he was serious.

"Dean wouldn't go for it. I mean, you know what happened with that faith healer in Nebraska," Sam said wistfully.

Bobby shuddered at that memory. "I won't lose my son," Bobby said determinedly. "Come on, we'd better get back to the hospital."

Sam decided to let the matter drop for now, but he still prayed with all his heart that one of them would be a match. "Yeah, let's go. I want to see my brother," Sam said and followed Bobby out the door.

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"Dean, leave it," Bobby said as he dragged Dean's hand away from his face. Ever since Dean had been returned to his room, he'd been trying to remove the cannula.

"I don't need it," he insisted.

"Humor me, okay?" John requested.

Dean gave a long suffering sigh.

"Are you in pain, Dean?" Bobby asked tenderly. He had to know.

"No," he said honestly. "It just feels strange. Dr. Scott said I shouldn't even notice it in a couple of days, though."

"That's good, son," Bobby said affectionately and John visibly flinched.

Sam glared at both his father and Bobby. He was just glad that Dean seemed too preoccupied with his catheter to notice. "Dad, Bobby, why don't you guys go stretch your legs for a bit," he said pointedly.

Bobby and John picked up on Sam's unspoken request. When they left the room, Sam was grateful that they headed in opposite directions. He turned back to his brother. This was a conversation he was dreading.

"Dean, I need to talk you about something," Sam started.

"It's okay, Sam. Watching Little House on the Prairie when we were kids is not a crime," Dean quipped.

"How'd you... when did you find that out?" Sam questioned in disbelief, for a moment distracted from his original speech.

"Dude, I was kidding. You actually watched Little House?" Dean asked amazement. "It's like I don't even know you."

Sam couldn't believe he had ratted himself out. "I watched it because I liked Mary."

"Good thing you picked the blind chick, no one else would go for your ugly mug."

"Dean, how'd you know Mary was blind?" Sam asked and couldn't hold back his laughter when Dean started squirming.

"Shut up," he mumbled.

"There's something I have to tell you about your transplant," Sam said turning serious.

"What now?" Dean said in a resigned tone. "They're not sticking more tubes in me, are they?" Dean asked.

"Not right now. It's just that, Dean, you know they have to destroy your immune system for the transplant to work, right?"

"Yeah," Dean responded impatiently. "What's your point?"

"It's just that it takes 4-6 weeks for the bone marrow to start to grow."

"Thank you, Dr. Winchester."

"First of all, you have to promise me that you won't freak out," Sam requested.

That made Dean nervous. "I don't freak," Dean said trying to cover.

"Second, it's not as bad as it sounds. Me, dad and Bobby are still allowed in your room."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean said trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Sam didn't miss the waver. There was no more beating around the bush. Sam decided to just rip off the Band-Aid. "To try and stop you from getting an infection, you have to spend the transplant period in isolation." He waited for Dean's reaction.

Dean stared in disbelief. Being in the hospital was bad enough, but at least if he started feeling the walls close in on him, he could leave his room and go for a walk. Now they wanted to stick him in a room for 6 weeks and keep him there, with no escape. No! The panic started slowly, first the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach and then it started building. He closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath to get his feelings under control. _6 weeks in a small room, no escape. No escape, no escape..._

Sam had been prepared for smart ass remarks and the tough exterior. That was how Dean usually reacted when he was terrified. What Sam wasn't prepared for was for Dean to actually panic. The last time Sam had seen this was on the demon infested plane. It wasn't something he really thought much about, but maybe Dean wasn't scared of flying. He also remembered Oasis Plains, when that construction worker had been killed. Dean had manipulated him so that he was the one who ended up in the hole. Sam had been surprised that his over-protective big brother would let him go down there without knowing exactly what they would find. Could his brother be claustrophobic?

It was the sound of harsh breathing that dragged Sam out of his thoughts. Dean was sitting frozen on his bed with a deer in the headlights look on his face. He was starting to hyperventilate. "Easy Dean," Sam said trying to soothe his brother. He laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's okay, I'm here, Dean. Come on, man, deep breaths."

He was really starting to get worried. He reached over and pressed the call button. The nurse came and immediately switched the cannula to a full face mask. She coached Dean on his breathing, along with Sam. Then, once she was satisfied that Sam had things under control, she asked him to stay with Dean while she went to get the doctor.

Sam did as he was asked. He was glad that the nurse seemed to sense that he needed to be the one to stay. Dr. Scott showed up and 10 minutes later, Dean was sleeping peacefully from the medication injected into his IV. He mumbled something before he went to sleep and Sam would swear the word Dean said was 'Daddy', but he decided he was hearing things.

After explaining the situation to the doctor, Sam went to call his father. Both John and Bobby showed up a little while later.

"Dad, what the hell happened? I know he hates being alone, but I told him that we'd be with him. Why'd he react that badly?" Sam demanded in a tone that meant he wanted answers. If his father was keeping more secrets...

"It's a really long story," John said with a shudder. It was something even he tried to block from his memory.

TBC

Please remember to feed the muse on the way out and leave a review. They make my day.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

I changed the format a bit. I know this is a flash back chapter but I was having trouble starting it in the past so I just decided to have John introduce the story in the present and then have it go into the past. Then have John wrap it up in the present.

Thanks to Soar for the beta, any left over mistakes are my own. Thanks to Soar, Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for all their feedback on this chapter

Disclaimer: Still Don't own them.

John shuddered at the memory.

"Damn it dad, you said no more secrets," Sam said, a touch of anger coloring his tone.

"I didn't do it deliberately. I justdon't like thinking about it," John replied.

_"I didn't do it deliberately.__ I just__don't like thinking about it?" _Sam imitated mockingly. "You still don't get it, do you? The common word in those phrases is _**I**_. When will you understand that this isn't about _**you**_?"

"Johnny,what happened?" Bobby wanted to know.

John deflatedand glanced toward the open door at his sleeping son. "I don't want to do this in front of Dean and I don't want to leave him. Can one of you stay with him?" John asked sounding lost.

"I will. Sam,you can fill me in later," Bobby said instantly and walked into Dean's room.

John was a little uncomfortable with leaving Bobby in there alone, but he would much rather tell his story to Sam. He and Sam walked out of the hospital to the car park and sat in the Impala. John was quiet for a while, needing to gather his thoughts. He finally turned toward his youngest son.

"We were so happy when your brother came into our lives," John said fondly. "It wasn't easy though, Sam. That first year,his health was so precarious, he picked up every cold and flu bug around. He was in the hospital more than he was out of it. When he turned two, things got a little better, but he was still susceptible to getting sick and the PDA he was born with opened back up. Another round of Indomethicin cleared it up, but we were warned that if it opened again, it would have to be repaired. Dean got a little stronger when he was three, there were fewer hospitalizations, but the doctorsstill needed to keep a close eye on him."

"Dad, what does this have to do with Dean's reaction?" Sam asked curiously.

"I'm getting there, kiddo, you just need to know the back story. As you can probably tell, we were pretty overprotective of him, a lot like Dean is with you," John said with a small grin. It quickly disappeared at the memory he was sharing with his younger son. "There were only two other people we trusted with Dean and that was our friends Kathy and Mike Gunther," he added,trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice that his most trusted friend had called social services on him.

"Your partner from the garage?" Sam asked as the time he and Dean had visited him during their return trip to Lawrence came back to him.

"Yeah," John said wistfully. "Kathy worked from home and she would watch Dean for us when we worked, and we would watch Maggie, their daughter, for them if they were going out. Then Kathy got a job offer and decided to take it and enroll her daughter in daycare. Given Dean's health problems,we were too nervous to do the same. We couldn't stop working though, and with Dean's medical bills, a nanny service was going to be out of the question. We had to hire a babysitter."

Sam sat in silence, all of a sudden he wasn't sure he wanted to hear what his father was about to tell him.

"We wouldn't hire just anyone, Sammy. We wanted someone older, more responsible. Dean had grown up with Kathy, so it didn't really bother him when we left him with her,but we had never left him with anyone else. Now, Dean was a good kid, Sam, but he was still a kid, one we tended to spoil and give into his every wish. We felt so bad about everything he had to endure. If he didn't want to have a test or something,we would bribe him. He had us wrapped around his little finger and he knew just how to play it. He also adopted the Winchester stubbornness as well."

"Who'd you hire, dad?" Sam asked.

"Our neighbour. She was an older lady, a widow. Her youngest son had just left for college. She had two boys, and they both graduated early. They were good kids, never got into trouble, and were polite and respectful and she always had a kind word for Mary and Dean. We were friendly with her, so when we needed a babysitter, she offered, said that the extra money would be helpful. It seemed like the perfect solution."

"I'm guessing it wasn't?" Sam asked.

"Understatement of the century, Sammy. If I could go back into the past and change one thing, it would be the day we decided to hire Kate Marsh as a baby sitter.

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1982

Mary Winchester satin front of her vanity, putting her hair up in curlers. She was a littleapprehensive about going out tonight. If would be the first time she and John had left their son with someone other than the Gunthers.

Sheand John were going out to a restaurant. There was something she wanted to talk to John about and they had decided to give Kate a trial run. Mary glanced up and saw a head full of blond hair peering round her doorway.

She resisted the urge to sigh. Dean was supposed to be taking a nap. Mary glanced at her clock. _40 minutes, new record._ "Hey Dean-o, I thought you were sleeping," Mary said and gestured that it was okay for Dean to enter.

"Nap done, mommy," Dean said seriously. "What's you doin'?" He walked in and climbed onto his mother's bed.

"I'm getting ready to go out tonight," Mary said tentatively.

"Where's we goin', mommy?"

"Dean, remember me and daddy talked to you? Me and your father are going to a grown up restaurant."

"I a big boy. Daddy said so," Dean insisted.

Mary looked at the little face in front of her. _Stay strong, she told herself. _"Sorry kiddo, mommies and daddies only."

"You're leaving me, mommy?" Dean said in such a small voice that he almost broke Mary's heart.

Mary put down the curler she was about to put in her hair and picked her son up, put him on her lap and gave him a big hug. "Never, Dean. You're a big boy, right?"

"Daddy said so," Dean said importantly.

"Sometimes, mommies and daddies need to go out by themselves. It doesn't mean that we're not coming back though, I'd miss you too much," Mary explained. "Besides,this restaurant would be no fun for you. There's no paper on the table for drawing, and they don't serve chicken nuggets or ice cream."

"Why you wants to go there, mommy?" Dean asked in disbelief that such a place could exist.

"It's fun when you're a grown up. How about we make a deal?"

"What'sa deal, mommy?"

"It's when two people agree on something. How about if mommy and daddy go out for dinner tonight, and then we'll take you out to dinner tomorrow after your check up," Mary offered.

"No hosp'al," Dean said stubbornly.

"You're going to see Dr. Tyler tomorrow. You like him and daddy will be with you," Mary said.

"Will he give me a lollipop?" Dean wanted to know.

"I'm sure he will," Mary said with a smile. It amused her athow easily Dean could bedistracted.

"Hey everyone,I'm home." They heard a voice from downstairs call.

"Daddy's home," Dean said excitedly and flew out the door.

"Dean, be careful on the stairs," Mary called out to her young son and took off after him.

John saw his little bundle of energy at the top of the stairs and motioned for him to slow down and take his time. Mary watched a little nervously from the top and John from the bottom. Dean reached the last few steps without incident and practically jumped into his father's arms. He loved his father's bear hugs.

"Hey buddy," John greeted.

"Daddy,guess what? Me and mommy makes a deal," Dean said proudly.

"What deal?" John wondered.

"You and mommy are going out and then tomorrow,after my 'poinment, we're going out."

John looked up the stairs to see his wife. She nodded her head. "Yeah kiddo,we are."

"Know what,daddy?" Dean said and gestured for his father to lean in. When John did so,Dean whispered in his ear.

John had to stop himself from bursting out laughing. "Thanks for the warning, kiddo," John said, making sure his tone was sincere.

"Can I watch the Polka-Dot Door, daddy?"

"Sure," John said, taking Dean to the living room and turning on the TV. Keeping a close eye on his son, John walked toward the kitchen to get a drink.

"What did he whisper to you?" Mary asked as she joined her husband in the kitchen.

"He wanted to warn me that I was going to have a really boring time tonight," John said with a grin.

Mary smiled and glanced over John's shoulder at her son who was watching TV. "He's going to be okay tonight, right John?" Mary said anxiously.

"I think the real question is are we?" John answered. "We have to do this, Mary. Work at the garage is really picking up, I can't take much more time offand Kathy's not going to be available at all next week."

"It's just that..."

"He'll be fine," John said trying to sound as if he had confidence in his words. Deep down, though, he was just as nervous as his wife.

John got dinner ready for his son while his wife finished getting ready. Then, at 6:45 the door bell rang.

"Hi Kate," John greeted their neighbor.

"Hi John, beautiful evening. You and Mary must be looking forward to dinner tonight," she said.

"Yeah, this is more of a trial run though, to see how Dean gets along," John admitted.

"I'm sure he'll be okay," Kate said echoing John's words.

John smiled at his neighbour. "I know he will. He's had supperand his bedtime is usually 7:30, but on Thursdays, we let him stay up until 8. He likes to watch Fraggle Rock and he also likes a story before bed. It has to be Where the Wild Things Are. There's a copy on the nightstand next to his bed.

"Hi Mrs. Marsh, you gots Hopper with you?" they heard a small voice call from behind them.

"Hi Dean. No, Hopper is at home taking a nap," Kate said. Hopper was her rabbit.

"Can I go see him when he wakes up?" Dean asked. He loved petting the rabbit's silky fur.

"Maybe tomorrow," Kate said.

"'Kay, we goin' to Aunt Kathy's now,daddy?" Dean asked.

John knelt down so that he was ateye level with his son. "Dean, Mrs. Marsh is going to stay with you tonight. Don't worry though, she knows about the Fraggles and about your story."

Dean looked to his the tall woman standing before him and thenback to his father. He didn't want to stay with her, even if he did like her rabbit. "I want to go with you, daddy," Dean said in a small voice.

"Dean, buddy, we talked about this, and you and mommy made a deal, remember?"

"I 'member, daddy," Dean said trying to sound brave.

"You be a good boy for Mrs. Marsh," John said and Dean nodded bravely.

Mary joined them shortly after and whenshe hadsaid goodbye to Dean, they were out the door. They both had to work hard not to turn around and go back though.

Dean climbed on the couchand watched through the window as his parents drove away. He wanted them to come back already.

"Dean, get off that couch," Kate said.

"I want mommy and daddy to come back," Dean said sadly, his eyes brimming with tears.

"They will if you're a good little boy," Kate said.

Dean turned toward his babysitter. "I a big boy," he corrected.

"_**I am**_ a big boy, or _**I'm**_ a big boy," she corrected harshly.

Dean wasn't sure what to say. He just stared at the woman in front of him. Was she mad? She sounded mad.

"Come on, we have about a half hour before your bedtime. Let's go read a story."

Dean frowned. "The Fraggles are on. I don't wants to go to bed."

"Speak correctly," Kate insisted. "Yourfather said bed at 7:30. Now let's go," Kate said as she held out her hand towards Dean. She had a firm beliefthat a child's schedule should not be interruptedfor television.

The little boy backed up. "Daddy and me watches Fraggles."

"It disrupts your schedule. Now,any more back talk and there'llbe no story."

Dean didn't want to go to sleep without his story. He tentatively reached out and took Kate's hand and allowed her to lead him up the stairs. He followed her into his room and climbed on his bed. He watched as his baby sitter walked to his shelf and removed a book. It didn't look like the right one.

"Pat the Bunny," Kate said fondly. "I read this to my boys."

"That's not the story daddy reads," Dean replied. So far, this babysitter was doing everything wrong.

"Well, this is the story we're reading tonight. Enough sauce," Kate said in a tone that indicated she meant business. She opened the book and started reading.

"Nooo!" Dean interrupted. "I hate that book. Daddy reads Where the Wild Things Are."

"One more word and I'll stop reading, and you'll go to sleep without any story. Are we clear?" She turned back to the story without waiting for his answer and read about two more sentences before Dean's tantrum erupted. He grabbed the book and threw it across the room. "I want daddy," he insisted.

Kate got really mad. "_**JAMES DEAN WINCHESTER!"**_ she yelled. She picked him up off his bed roughly. "Now you've done it. That's one strike. Two more and they'll send you to the bad boy place."

That stopped Dean cold. What was she talking about? "Mommy wouldn't leave me, she said so."

"If you're a good boy, which you're not. You're very naughty,James Dean, and when little boys are naughty,they get what are called three strikes. If you reach three, then they send you away to the bad boy place."

"I don't wants to go there," Dean said. Tears sprang to his eyes.

"Right now, you need a time out to think about how naughty you are. Come with me." Kate waited for Dean to follow her out of the room.

Too scared not to follow, he walked behind her and followed her down the stairs. He stood staring when Kate opened the closet door.

Dean looked from the closet to Kate. If mommy and daddy gavehim a time out, they made him sit in the corner in his room. He had to sit still for 15 whole minutes. She wanted him to go in the closet. He couldn't. His daddy hadsaid that he wasn't allowed in there after he had been playing hide and seek, and had gotten stuck. His daddy had eventually found him and made him promise never to go in there again.

"Get in. If you're a good boy and don't make any noise, then you'll loseyour strike."

"I don't want to," Dean said softly. "It's too dark."

"You're really testing me. Do you want a second strike?"

"No," Dean said fearfully. He walked into the closet and watched as Kate shut the door, leaving him in the dark.

Dean sat against the wall. He was scared, he wanted out, and he wanted his daddy. Every little noise caused him to jump. It was too dark. He really wanted to cry out,but Mrs. Marsh hadtold him to be quiet. He didn't want his parents to send him away, so he did his best to swallow his fear. He sank against the wall and tried to pretend he was in his big boy bed with his father's arms around him, reading his favourite story. He did that at the hosp'al when he was scared.

When Kate checked on him later,she found him asleep, as she had figured he would be. It worked with her own boys every time. She woke Dean and took him up to his bed. "Okay, now Dean, I won't tell your parents you were naughty, this is just between us."

"Kay," he mumbled sleepily and closed his eyes.

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John and Mary came home to find their son sleepingand Kate sitting in the living room,reading a book. When they asked how things had gone, Kate said that there was nothing that she couldn't handle.

The first thing John did was check on his boy. Dean appeared to be sleeping peacefully, so Mary paid Kate and asked her to be their regular sitter.

The next morning, they noticed that Dean seemed a little subdued, but they didn't think anything of it because he was usually quiet on days that he had a check up, and by the time they got home from the restaurant, Dean seemed like his old self.

The following day, Kate started working as the Winchester's regular babysitter. She arrived in the morning and remembering the last time, Dean kept out of her way. He stayed in his room all morning,drawing pictures for his mommy and daddy.

"Dean, lunch," he heard Katecall.

Dean picked up his picture and carefully made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen. He climbed on his chair and waited patiently for his lunch.

Kate brought over Dean's peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Dean looked at it and frowned.

"I don't like red jelly, mommy uses purple," Dean said.

"There was none left. Eat your sandwich," Kate said.

"No," Dean said stubbornly and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Alright then, if you don't eat what's in front of you, you go hungry." Kate got up and threw the food in the garbage.

Dean watched as she sat down and ate her own sandwich. Was she not going to give him lunch? He was hungry. Maybe he could make his own sandwich. He climbed off his chair and headed for the refrigerator. Anticipating his move, Kate quickly stood in front of the fridge. "I warned you," she replied.

"I be good, don't makes me go to the closet," Dean said in a small voice.

"Now you say that, and I believe the proper phrase is I'll be good. I think now would be a good time for some more learning."

"What's that?" Dean wanted to know.

"We're going to start to learn the alphabet. My boys could write their names by the time they were your age."

Dean quickly forgot about his lunch"Can you help me write my name? I want to put it on mommy and daddy's picture," Dean wanted to know.

"Let's give it a try." Kate got some paper and a pencil. She quicklyshowed Dean how to make the first letter of his name. Dean gritted his teeth in determination, but every time he triedto imitate the d, it looked like a b. He just couldn't make it go the right way.

"Are you even trying?" Kate snapped. "Pay attention."

Dean's three year old patience was wearing thin. He threw down the pencil and refused to pick it up again. "It's too hard," he insisted.

"Quitters never get anywhere in this world. Are you a quitter?" Kate asked harshly.

"I want daddy," Dean said. He didn't like it when Kate started talking like that.

"You can't rely on him for everything. Maybe you need some quiet time, maybe that will improve your attitude."

"No!" Dean wailed when he found himself being dragged to the front hallway. This time,Kate didn't even give him a chance to walk in. She just placed him in there and closed and locked the door.

Dean hated it in there. Even during the day, it was too dark. He shrank back against the wall and once again, tried to keep the fear under wraps. He didn't want to make Mrs. Marsh any madder than she was, she might give him a strike. The only thing Dean knew for sure was that he didn't want to go to the bad boy place, especially if there were more closets.

It seemed like he was in there forever beforeKate finally let him out. She told him he was good and that she wouldn't tell his parents.

This continued for the next week. It seemed that every time Dean turned around, he was back in the closet, and for the most part, he was never really sure of the reason why. He was too scared to tell his parents though, because Kate had told him that tattling was an automatic trip to the place for bad boys, and he would never see his parents again. That scared Dean more than anything.

John and Mary did notice the change that had come over Dean. He had always hated being left alone, but lately,he seemed to cling to his parents as if he was afraid to let them out of his sight. While Dean had never been fond of the dark, he now screamed when John turned off the light and went to shut his door.

The worst was when one day,Mary and Dean had been at a shopping mall. She and Dean had been in the dressing room and when Mary stepped out to ask the sales lady for a bigger size, Dean took one look at the small dressing room and had become hysterical. Mary couldn't get him to calm down or tell her what was wrong.

John and Mary discussed everything that could be affecting their son,but nothing came to mind. It was only coincidence that John found out.

One day, he realized that he had forgotten his wallet. He immediately drove home to goback for it. He opened the door and found Kate, as usual, reading a novel. He looked around but didn't see his son anywhere, whichwas kind of surprising because Dean usually tried to bowl him over whenever he entered the house.

"Where's Dean?" John asked.

"He was naughty this morning and is receiving a time out," Kate explained.

"What'd he do?" John questioned.

"He talked back to me. I won't tolerate rudeness."

Dean, who was in the closet, heard his father come in. Had daddy come to rescue him, or was he there to take him to the bad boy place? Right now,he didn't care,and all his fears came bubbling up and erupted like a volcano. He screamed and pounded on the door, tryingto get his father's attention.

John heard the commotion, pulled the closet door open and found his small son barrelling into him.

"Daddy," Dean cried. "I'm sorry I was bad. I don't want to go away," he sobbed.

Wondering what was going on, John looked toward Kate. She had said that Dean was getting a time out. Did this mean she had been putting him in there? He shuddered.

"Hey buddy," John said softly.

"Don't send me away, daddy, don't," Dean said, he was nearly hysterical.

"What the hell is he talking about?" John asked, turning his attention back to Kate. He felt Dean's grip on him tighten, it was getting to the point of cutting off his circulation.

"He needs discipline, John. If you don't nip this bad behavior in the bud, you'll never be able to control him," was all she said in explanation.

"He's three," John spat out. He looked at his son, his eyes filled with sorrow. "Dean, can you tell me what you did?" John questioned gently.

"III ddoonnn'tttt knnnow," Dean said in hiccupping sobs.

"It's alright, buddy, daddy's got you. I promise, Dean, no matter what you tell me, daddy's not going to be mad."

It was a couple of minutes before Dean could speak and then it all came pouring out. "She said I was bad and you would take me to the bad boy place, and I'd have to stay there forever,'cause I can't learn my letters and I'm naughty. I'm sorry daddy, don't make me go. I wanna stay with you and mommy," Dean replied and the sobs started again.

John turned back to Kate with hatred in his eyes. The only reason he wasn't going to be charged with murder was because he had his arms full with his son, who wasn't about to let go. "He's three," John said again, trying to keep his anger incheck. He was failing miserably.

"It's called discipline. I used it with my own boys and look at how well they turned out."

"They were probably too scared to do anything, and it's no wonder they graduated early," John said bitterly. "They probably wanted to get away from you as fast as they could. Now get out of my house, and I swear to God that if I ever see you near my son again, I will have you arrested so fast your head will spin. Is that clear?"

Kate didn't need to be told twice. She just collected her things and left. John took Dean to the bathroom. He sat him down on the counter and wiped his face, all the while talking gently to him. Then John brought him into his own room and laid himself down on the big bed next to his son.

"We need to talk, buddy. I need you to be a real big boy for daddy. Can you do that?"

"Are you sending me away?" Dean asked fearfully as his chest hitched again.

John hugged his son as tight as he could. _**"NEVER!"**_ he said firmly. "You're real special to me and your mommy, Dean. We love you more than anything in the world. I need you to listen to me though, no matter what you do, it could never be enough to make us send you away. We may get mad, but I swear, Dean, we would never send you away."

"Even though I can't make my letters," Dean said fearfully.

"Even then," John reaffirmed. "I'll tell you something. I had trouble learning how to make my letters as well. It doesn't mean you're bad, or stupid. It just means you need some extra practice." He glanced at the clock and realized that he needed to call his partner and let him know that he wouldn't be in for the day. He felt two little hands geta death grip on him.

"Don't leave, daddy," Dean said in a voice that broke John's heart.

"I just need to make a quick phone call, I won't leave the room,buddy. You'll be able to see me the whole time."

Dean reluctantly let go and watched as his father grabbed the phone. He told Mike that he wouldn't be in and told him that he would call him later and explain the whole situation. John thenwalked back over to his son and snuggled in next to him, whispering reassurances. It wasn't long before Dean's exhaustion took over and he fell asleep. John was reluctant to move, but he needed to call Mary, so he carefully extracted himself and called his wife with the whole story. Mary came home immediately, she wanted to stop and give that woman a piece of her mind, but her son was more important.

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Sam didn't know what to say after his father finished his story.

"After that day, it was a long time before we could leave Dean alone without him getting hysterical. The whole experience left your brother afraid of small spaces."

"But I've seen him go into a small places," Sam protested. "I mean,he can spend hours in the car and when we were looking for you, he was down in a mine shaft."

"I wouldn't say he's claustrophobicin the truest sense of the word. I don't think Dean remembers what happened,Sammy. It's just something in his subconsciousthat fears small spaces. There was one time, you were at school, we went to interview a guy living on the 20th floor of an apartment building. Dean didn't hesitateto get in the elevator,but there was a power outage and the elevator got stuck for about 10 minutes. After 5 minutes, Dean just becameoverwhelmed, it's like the panic just hit him," John said trying to explain.

"Is that why Dean's afraid to fly? He's on the plane and he can't get out."

"Exactly. It's the same with hospitals. If he can leave when he feelsthe panic starthe's fine, but..."

"If he's in isolation, he can't," Sam finished. He really wanted to be mad at his father. Why the hell hadn'the saidsomething when they were discussing who was going to tell Dean about the going into isolation in the first place. His father was the one person who could understand just how Dean would have reacted. The other part of Sam felt as bad for his father as he did for his brother.

It was obvious the guilt John carriedabout the whole incident, and Sam wondered if his father had done his own share of trying to block it out. He decided that an argumentwasn't worth it, and there was one more thing he really wanted to know. "What happened to Kate?" Sam asked. He wanted to find the woman, he had a few things he would like to say to her.

"I know what you're feeling, Sam, believe me. I felt it too. Despite everything though, I don't hate her," John said. He continued when Sam looked at him in surprise. "Okay, I did at the moment when I found Dean in that closet, but I realized later that she probably didn't realize what she was doing was wrong. It was the way she was raised and the way she raised her boys. I'm not saying it excuses things, but she wasn't some ogre that deliberately set out to hurt your brother. We did, however, stop her from doing it to any other child. We didn't hide what happened to Dean, we told everyone we could think of and she was never offered another baby sitting job."

"What did you and mom do?" Sam asked. "You still needed a babysitter."

"The only thing we could do. Since I was self employed, and could take time off easier, I stayed home with Dean. It was a bad time. Dean had nightmares for months and the stress affected his health, so he ended up in the hospital again. Money was extremely tight. We started trying to get Dean used to being without us, but it was a slow process. However, we did eventuallyget to the point where we could leave. Despite everything, I have to say I really enjoyed being a stay at home dad."

"What made you go back to work?" Sam asked curiously.

"We knew we needed the money when yourmom found out that she was pregnant with you."

"What? When? But I thought..." Sam trailed off.

Before John could say anything more, his cell went off. It was Bobby saying the Dean was starting to wake up.

"Guess I'll have to save that story for another day," John said as he exited the car and started back toward the hospital.

TBC

Please remember to read and review. Even just one makes the muse happy.

I know that Folsom Prison Blues kind of messes up my theory about why Dean doesn't like small spaces but as this takes place shortly after Devil's Trap I am just conviently ignoring it


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

I would like, once again, to extend my thanks to Soar for the awesome beta job. Any left over mistakes are competely my own. Also a huge thank you goes out to Soar, JuliaAurelia, and Sinead-Conlan for all their feedback and suggestions on this chapter. I would also like to thank everyone who is reading or reading and reviewing.

Dean Winchester was bored. It had been 9 days since they had told him he needed a bone marrow transplant. He still had another 5 days to go before he even found out if his dad and brother were a match. He'd already been incarcerated for almost two weeks now, and he was still looking at least another 2 months if there were no complications.

He really wanted out. The walls were closing in on him and not even walks down the hall were cutting it anymore. He was going completely stir crazy. He watched TV, he'd read all the magazines that Bobby, Sam and his father had brought him. Sam had even brought him some math puzzles called Sudoku. They'd kept him busy for a couple of hours but he'd always been good at math and once he figured out what he was doing he made short work of the book. He'd gotten so desperate that he'd actually picked up the book that Sam had left in his room. To his surprise, he was actually enjoying To Kill A Mockingbird. Not that he'd admit that to anyone.

He had to keep his mind occupied. If he didn't, it started to drift back to the fact that they were going to stick him in isolation, and that caused his mouth to go dry and his heartbeat to speed up every time someone mentioned it. He was thoroughly embarrassed by the way he'd reacted when his brother had told him, and in typical Dean Winchester fashion, he ignored it and refused to talk about it, saying he would deal with it when the time came.

That was another thing, when had he actually agreed to have the transplant? He seemed to recall agreeing to stay in the hospital until they found out if his father or brother was a match, and then they would talk, although deep down, he knew he had agreed to everything when he'd agreed to have the surgery for the chest catheter.

Dean's hand drifted up toward his catheter and he fingered it lightly. He would admit that it was nice not getting stuck with needles several times a day. The doctor had been right that the sensation of feeling the catheter would go away, but totally wrong about not noticing it. The nurses came in a couple times a day to clean and dress the surgery site and make sure it wasn't infected. Then they shot all three tubes with something called heparin, which was supposed to prevent clots. The damned stuff hurt like crazy.

Not knowing what else to do, Dean picked up his book and opened it to the page he had finished at the night before.

"Hey Dean," he heard a voice calling him.

Dean could see his baby brother entering the room and quickly hid the book under his covers. He had a reputation to maintain. "Hey Sammy," he answered.

Sam entered the room and took a seat next to Dean's bed. "Have you seen my book? I think I left it here last night," he asked.

Dean tried to look innocent. "Um, no," he stammered.

Sam could immediately tell that something was up. Had Dean actually started reading it, or had he ripped the pages out and used them to play basketball. He tried to discretely look at the wastebasket.

"Hey!" Dean protested. "I wouldn't wreck your book."

"You did before," Sam shot back.

"I was 12," Dean defended himself.

"So what part are you at?" Sam said.

Dean sighed. "Jem and Scout have just met Dill," he said and retreived the book from it's hiding spot and handed it back to Sam.

"You can keep it until you're done," Sam offered.

"Can you tell me how it ends?" Dean asked hopefully.

Sam shot his brother an evil grin. "You'll just have to read the whole thing and find out. You know, if you want, I can go to the bookstore and get you a few more." He knew that Dean's frustration was growing and it would be best to nip it in the bud.

"Let me finish this one first. There is one thing you can do for me, though," Dean said.

"What?" Sam asked tentatively.

"Help me convince dad and Dr. Scott to let me out of here."

Sam looked at his brother like he was crazy. He knew that Dean was bored, but he was really hoping they wouldn't have to go through this anymore. "Dean," he said warningly.

Dean realized that his request had been misinterpreted. "Not permanently, Sam. Just for a few hours. I want to get dressed, take a ride in my baby, and go eat food that's actually edible. I need this, Sammy. Right now, it feels like the walls are closing in on me and not even going for a walk down the hall is helping right now," Dean requested.

Sam felt his heart go out to his brother. After John had told Bobby why Dean reacted the way he did, there had been a long discussion amongst the three as to whether or not to tell Dean. Sam and Bobby wanted to, as they felt that if Dean knew the reason why he was afraid of small spaces, then he might be able to deal with it better. John had said no, that with everything else Dean was dealing with, he didn't need to deal with the fact that his babysitter used to lock him in a closet too. They ended up not really doing anything because any time they tried to bring it up, Dean changed the subject and refused to deal with it.

Sam didn't know if Dean's request was a good one, or even something that was possible. Over the last week and a half, Sam had clearly seen the impact this disease was having on his big brother. Dean tired easily and had trouble catching his breath if he pushed himself too far, which he often did. Not to mention the fact that if Dean came down with an infection, it would throw the whole transplant off schedule.

There was something else that worried Sam even more, though. What if nothing went wrong? To Sam's ears it sounded ridiculous, but Sam knew his big brother. He knew what would happen. In a couple of days, Dean would ask to go out again, then it would be for a few hours a day, then Sam would have a fight getting Dean back to the hospital, period. Dean would be able to convince himself that he was fine, and that the doctors were over reacting. It might have been cruel, but Sam would rather keep Dean in the hospital where he was safe.

"Sam?' Dean asked.

He wanted to say no, but he couldn't help himself and Sam found him agreeing to Dean's request. "Let me go find your doctor. If he agrees, we'll have a much easier time convincing dad, but I'm adding my own condition in there," Sam stated firmly.

"What's that?" Dean asked.

"You follow the doctor's advice, including the fact that he may say no," Sam insisted. "And no arguments about coming back."

"Deal," Dean quickly agreed. He knew it was the only way. "I'm about to start climbing the walls."

An evil grin spread across Sam's face. He stood up to go try and find Dean's doctor and just before he exited the room, he turned to his brother. "Go ahead, they're high enough that it would probably take you all day, _**little brother." **_Sam managed to get out of the room just before the pillow struck the wall where his head had been.

Sam stopped at nurse's station to find out where Dr. Scott was. He was told that the doctor was on rounds and would be available in about an hour, but if it was an emergency, she could have him paged.

Sam smiled and said that it wasn't and asked if she could just have Dr. Scott come see him at his earliest convenience. Sam went back to Dean's room and tried to keep his brother occupied.

--

John and Bobby showed up a little while later. Dean had drifted off, leaving Sam feeling glad that he didn't have to explain Dean's request to his father just yet. He had a feeling that he wouldn't go for it, for all the same reasons Sam was worried about.

After Dr. Scott checked in on Dean, Sam told his father and Bobby that he was going for coffee and followed Dean's doctor out the door.

"Dr. Scott," Sam quickly called.

Dr. Scott stopped and turned around. "What's up, Sam?" he asked.

"I was just wondering if I could ask you something," Sam said.

"Anytime, you know that," Dr. Scott said agreeably.

"You may change your mind when you here what I want," Sam warned.

"Let me see if I can guess. Dean wants to check out of here for a while?"

Sam stared at the doctor in shock. How the hell had he known that?

"No, I'm not psychic. It's a common request. Two weeks is a long time while you're waiting for test results," Dr. Scott explained.

"Can he?" Sam wanted to know.

Dr. Scott hesitated for a few seconds and Sam was sure he was going to say no. Explaining that to Dean was going to be _soooo_ much fun.

"2 hours," Dr. Scott eventually granted. "Given the severity of Dean's condition, I'd rather he stay here, but sometimes a brief sabbatical can do wonders for a patient's state of mind."

"Thanks doc," Sam said with a hint of uncertainty in his tone. He knew that, deep down, part of him was hoping that the doctor would say no.

"I've seen that reaction too, Sam. It's okay to feel that way. If it was my brother, I'd want the doctor to say no too. Just keep a close eye on him. If he seems more fatigued than normal, or has trouble breathing, bring him back."

"Thank doc," Sam said again, and this time it was genuine. "I don't mean to press my luck, but can you do me one more favour?" Sam asked.

--

Dean could have kissed Sammy when Dr. Scott showed up and asked him if he'd like to check out for a couple of hours and go out to dinner with his family, making it sound as if it was totally his idea.

John was hesitant, but since it had been the doctor's suggestion he agreed.

So after a ton of rules, most relating to his catheter, and things to watch out for, Dean was seated in a wheelchair and being pushed toward the exit by his brother. He smiled when he saw the Impala waiting for him by the door. Sam wouldn't let him drive, though and to placate him, Sam popped in a tape and Dean's grin got wider when Nazareth's Hair of the Dog started playing as they drove off.

Sam drove Dean to the local bookstore first. Dean protested, but Sam insisted.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said hesitantly before they could exit the car.

"Yeah."

"Can you tell?" Dean asked.

"About what?" Sam asked.

"You know," Dean said and pointed to his chest. "Can you see it?"

"No," Sam said honestly. He don't know why he was surprised that it was a concern of Dean's. Dean had on his usual outfit of jeans, t-shirt and overshirt but the over shirt had actually been buttoned due to the fact that the catheter's outline could be seen under the t-shirt. "Come on," he said changing the subject. We're meeting dad and Bobby at the Lick-a-Chick for dinner in about a half hour.

Dean looked at his brother. Was he serious? "I wonder if they have a full service menu," Dean said lecherously.

Sam shook his head and led his brother into the book store, while he listened to Dean make comments about the restraurants name.

He helped Dean pick out of a couple of books that he knew his sibling would like, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest and The Catcher in the Rye. Sam agreed when Dean asked if it was about baseball, he figured Dean would like the book anyway once he got started.

After the book store, Sam drove Dean to a music store. Bobby had pulled him aside and had given Sam some money to get Dean and Ipod. They both knew that John couldn't afford it, but music had always had a calming influence on Dean, and Sam knew that it would come in handy in the coming weeks.

After the music store, Sam could clearly tell that Dean was getting tired. He knew that Dean wouldn't admit it, so he told his brother that he was hungry and drove Dean to meet their father and Bobby.

Sam couldn't believe how big Dean's grin got when they pulled into the parking lot of the Lick-A-Chick. Dr. Scott had recommended the place, saying that it was a local fast food restaurant that made the best chicken. Sam personally found it a bit greasey, but he was never a huge fan of fast food, but he did agree that it was good.

Dean sat at the table with his family, enjoying what was sure to be his last taste of freedom for a very long time. He loved the restaurant so much that he insisted on buying a t-shirt.

"Everything, okay, son?" Bobby asked.

John tried his best not to flinch, but he had to agree with Bobby. Exhaustion was clearly written all over Dean's face. "You ready to head back?" he asked.

Dean glanced at his watch. He still had ust under an hour left and he didn't want to go back until he absolutely had to. Acutally he didn't want to go back at all but he had promised Sam he wouldn't argue and truth be told, he would love to be back in his bed right now. "In a bit," was all he said and went back to his food. His plate was still almost full and he was sure that was what had prompted his dad's and Bobby's inquiry. Normally, he didn't even stop to chew.

He had thought that he was hungry until he sat down, and then his appetite had disappeared. He loved fried chicken, but he found the food tasted like copper. He wanted to ask the others if their food tasted like that, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself.

"Why don't we..." Bobby started and then looked up at his son, his suggestion dying on his lips.

Sam and John turned their gazes toward the middle Winchester as well, wondering what Bobby was looking at.

Dean wanted to shout "What the hell are you staring at?" Then he knew. He could feel wetness on his upper lip. He picked it up his napkin, held it to his face and checked it a few seconds later. There was blood on the napkin.

"Come on, kiddo, time to head back," John said gently.

Dean could feel all the stares from the others in the restraurant and he flushed red. He _**hated**_ this.

Sam assisted Dean, trying extremely hard to make it look like he wasn't helping him. He grabbed several napkins and walked behind Dean out to the car. He drove back to the hospital quickly, thanking God that there were no stop signs, their worry increasing when Dean's nosebleed showed not only showed no signs of stopping, and appeared on the napkin when he started coughing.

The first thing they did was test Dean's platelets. They were low, which was why his nosebleed wasn't clotting. They relaxed a little bit also found out that the blood had been running down the back of his throat and that he was not actually coughing up blood. The relief was short lived when they hooked a bag of blood up to one of the ports in Dean's catheter and then added the oxygen cannula under his nose. His blood counts were so low it was effecting his oxygen levels. What scared them is that Dean didn't fuss over it. He took a few deep breaths, to get get rid of his breathless feeling and he closed his eyes. He was alseep in five minutes as Sam, John and Bobby sat by his bed watching the transfusion drip slowly into one of the ports on his catheter. Each was thinking the same thing, wanting, wishing they could do anything to help Dean

--

"Dad, I've been thinking," Sam said to his father. It was later that same evening. Dr. Scott had assured them that Dean was in no immediate danger and had sent them all back to the motel to get some sleep.

"What's up, kiddo?" John asked.

"When Dean has his transplant, one of us is going to have to be with him at all times. I know that you and Bobby are having issues, but we can't do it with just the two of us. It's going to be too much. We need him," Sam admitted. "Dean's comfortable with him."

John sighed deeply. He knew that Sam was right, but he didn't like the situation. "We'll set up a schedule. There's something else I need to talk to you both about. Hang on, I'm going to get Bobby." This was a conversation he was not looking forward to.

Bobby had the room next to theirs, and John went and knocked on the door and asked Bobby to join him in his and Sam's room for a moment.

"The results of the HLA typing should be available soon. Bobby, if you're a match, I want you tell Dean that Sam is. I think it will be easier on him that way," John said.

"Excuse me," Bobby protested. "No way! If I'm a match, I want Dean to know it came from me."

"This is about making it easier for Dean, don't you think that he's going to question why you're a match. I mean, he know the odds of a stranger matching are 1 in 20,000."

"I'm his _**father**_**," **Bobby said coldly.

"That's not what I meant, Bobby, and you God Damn well know it, and if you want to bring up this argument again, you may be his father but I'm his _**dad!"**_ John's tone matched Bobby's.

_Here we go, thought Sam. _"I'm his _**brother**_," Sam said to the two of them. "I thought we agreed that the two of you were not going to use my brother to mark your territories. I get what dad's saying. I know you love Dean, Bobby, and you want to help him, but dad's right. Dean will question it. We can tell him that you're staying with me while I donate. That way he won't wonder why I'm not there."

Bobby wanted to protest further, but one thing he did agree on was that Dean would wonder why Bobby matched him, despite the odds. Finding out the truth right before undergoing a serious medical procedure was definitely not in his best interest. He had no choice but to grudgingly agree.

--

The next day at the hospital, John sought out Dean's doctor. Dr. Scott did not like the plan at all but he, like Bobby, understood it and agreed.

--

_Five days later._

Dr. Scott walked down the hall to his patient's room. He was carrying the results of the HLA typing and was very happy that he finally had some good news to pass onto Dean and his family.

He stepped into the room.

"Hey all," he greeted. "Thought you'd want to know the results right away."

"Is any of us a match?" John asked.

Dr. Scott grinned. "Yup. There are 6 markers that we look for and, Sam, you match 5 out of the 6. We prefer a 6 marker match but five gives the transplant a chance at succeeding."

The mood in the room brightened considerably. Sam was hoping it was truly him. He really wanted to be the one to help his big brother for a change.

Bobby was hoping it was him. He wanted to help his son.

John was a little disappointed that he hadn't matched, because he would have liked to help his son, but as he gazed fondly at his boys, he was really hoping that it was truly Sam that was a match, because despite the fact that they weren't biologically related, they were brothers.

TBC

A/N: Is Sam truly a match, or is it just part of John's plan? I'll be honest, I haven't completely decided yet, but I am leaning heavily toward Sam because I think they were destined to be brothers, no matter if they're related by blood or not. What are your thoughts? Sam or Bobby? Who would you rather see?

Lick-a-Chick is actually a real restaurant. When I heard the name, I knew I had to work it in somehow.

Don't forget to read and review. I would also like your opinions on if you would prefer Sam or Bobby to be the match.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Thanks to the awesome Soar for the beta job, and once again to Soar, JuliaAurelia and Sinead-Conlan for all their suggestions and feedback on this chapter.

Sorry for the long wait, the only excuse I have is real life. I figured the way I ended the last chapter, this would be the perfect time to introduce Sammy.

Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

1982

"Are you sure?" Mary asked Dr. Tyler, her friend and boss.

"It's right there in front of you, Mary. In black and white. I wouldn't have believed it either if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes," Dr. Tyler admitted.

"I thought it was impossible," Mary said.

"You said it yourself. Less than 5 is not 0. You're pregnant, Mary. There's no denying it," the doctor confirmed.

"Can I...?" Mary said. She knew that she might have a problem carrying to term.

"Let's just take it one day at a time. I'm going to refer you to Dr. Williams. He specializes in high risk pregnancies and he's one of the best."

"Thanks, Adam," Mary said. "I can't wait to tell John."

"Tell you what, if you can find someone to cover your shift, you can go home and tell your husband right now."

"Thank you," she said excitedly and bolted for the door.

It didn't take Mary long to find someone to switch shifts with her and she quickly made for the parking garage, got in the Impala and drove home.

Her thoughts were going a mile a minute as she drove home. The night they had first left Dean with Kate Marsh, and Mary still shuddered when she thought of what that woman had done to her young son, at the restaurant that night, Mary had broached the subject of adopting a second child. John had been hesitant, but he did like the idea, after all, he and Mary had always wanted more than one child. Shortly afterward, though, Dean's behaviour problems had started. At first, Mary and John had thought that Dean was upset about being left with a babysitter. After they had found out what was really happening, they had decided that it wasn't the right time.

The last six weeks had been tough. Dean was extremely clingy and he wouldn't let his parents out of his sight. John had been working hard, trying to get Dean back to the point he had been at before Kate. He was making progress slowly, but if she was pregnant, John was going to have to return to work. Was Dean ready for that? How would he feel about being a big brother? He was used to having his parents all to himself.

--

Mary was a little nervous when she pulled into the driveway. She let herself in and the first thing she did was call out to her husband and son. John met her at the door. He had been in the kitchen making lunch.

"Where's Dean?" she inquired.

"He's in his room. I asked him to draw you a picture," John said.

"How long has he been in there?"

"About 5 minutes. We're up to 15 before he has to come check to make sure I'm still here."

"When I think about what that woman did to him..." Mary said, a touch of anger seeping into her voice.

"Mary," John said cutting through. "Let's just concentrate on the here and now. We can't change what happened."

"Mommy," an excited voice called from the top of the stairs. Dean had heard his mom call when she had come in. He hoped daddy wouldn't be mad that he had left his room. He was supposed to stay in his room until daddy called him, but he wanted to see his mommy.

"Hey, Dean-o. Come give your mommy a hug. I missed you," she said opening her arms. "Just be careful on the stairs."

Dean slowly made his way down and into his mother's arms. His mommy's bear hugs were as good as his daddy's. He looked over at his father. "Are you mad at me, daddy?"

John reached out and Mary handed their son over. John squeezed him tight. "'Course not, buddy. Why would you think that?"

"I was 'posed to stay in my room until you said to come out."

"It's okay, Dean. Remember, I said that if you needed to leave, you could."

"I 'member, daddy. I didn't finish mommy's picture."

"That's okay, Dean," Mary said. "You can finish it later."

"'Kay," Dean said agreeably. "Are you going to have lunch with us?"

"Yup," Mary agreed.

Dean started squirming in John's arms, so he put him down and Dean ran to the kitchen. John turned to his wife. "You want to hold her down, or should I?" He said as he followed his baby boy into the kitchen. He realized that he was still feeling bitter towards their old babysitter.

When all three Winchesters were seated at the table with their peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Mary decided that this was the best time to bring up her news.

"John, do you remember what we talked about that night in the restaurant?" Mary asked.

"Yes, but we decided to wait," John said with a touch of confusion. Why was his wife bringing this up now and in front of Dean?

"Well how does 7 and a half months sound?"

"Mary, are you..." John stopped.

Mary nodded and John grabbed and hugged his wife.

"Mommy, what's going on?" Dean wanted to know.

"You're going to be a big brother, Dean," John said and Dean's eyes lit up.

"Like Tad is to Joey on All My Children?" Dean asked excitedly.

"Where did..."

"Dean, you're going to be a great big brother," John said cutting off his wife.

"Where is he, mommy?" Dean asked giving John a reprieve.

"The baby won't be here for another few months, Dean."

"Where is he, mommy?" Dean repeated. "I wanna see him."

"In mommy's tummy until he grows big and strong," John said and immediately regretted his words. He had a feeling that he wasn't going to want to answer Dean's next question. Although John realized that he would have preferred explaining the birds and the bees to what Dean actually did ask.

"Did I grow in your tummy?"

John and Mary exchanged glances. "Um," Mary stammered. "The thing is, Dean..."

"Yes, son, mommy carried you," John interrupted.

"What are we going to name him mommy? You said names should mean something. I want to call him 'Pala."

"Paula," John said while ignoring Mary's accusing glares.

"Yeah, 'Pala," Dean agreed. "After the car."

"Um, we'll think about it, buddy," John said trying not to laugh. "Paula might be a nice name if we had a girl."

"NOOOO!" Dean wailed.

"What is it, Dean-o," Mary said, wondering what had upset her son and shooting her husband a dont even think about it look.

"No! No! No! No! No! Don't want no girls. I don't wanna be a sister."

Mary and John really had to fight to keep from laughing. They didn't want to hurt Dean's feelings. Mary couldn't help but smile though, as she picked up her son and hugged him tight. "It's alright, Dean. Even if I have a girl, you'll still be her big brother. You see, Dean, boys are brothers and girls are sisters."

"I still wanna brother," Dean said stubbornly. "Girls are icky, 'cept you, mommy. Daddy said mommies don't count as girls."

"He did, did he?" Mary said sternly and shot another glare at her husband.

"Hey, buddy, I thought that was our secret."

"No, daddy, you said our secret was not to tell mommy you watch soaps in the afternoon."

John knew he was really in for it now. Mary was never going to let him hear the end of it. Did he really want a second child? He didn't know if he could survive his first.

"Can I go and draw a picture for my brother?" Dean asked.

"Go ahead, honey. There's a new box of crayons on the coffee table in the living room."

"Wow," Dean said in an excited tone. He wasn't sure what was more exciting. New crayons, or a new brother. New crayons were exciting when you were three.

John followed him to make sure he made it up the stairs okay and went back to his wife.

"Why did you lie to him, John?" Mary said accusingly.

"I didn't," John insisted.

"You told him I carried him in my tummy. I didn't, John. I think we should tell him the truth. He's getting old enough to understand."

Whether or not to tell Dean about his adoption was the one thing John and Mary could never agree on. "We don't need to tell him, Mary. He's our son and I didn't lie to him. I never told him he was in your tummy, I told him you carried him. You did, Mary. Not in the traditional way, but the entire time he was in the NICU, you got him through, Mary. Don't ever doubt that our son wouldn't be alive today if it wasn't for you."

Mary wrapped her arms around her husband. "I love you, John Winchester, did I ever tell you that?"

"Not half as much as I love you," John said as he returned Mary's hug.

She looked up at her husband with a gleam in her eye that told John he was in for it.

"All My Children?" She questioned mockingly.

--

They celebrated their good news and then the next day, reality smacked them in the face. They still needed someone to look after Dean. John was going to have to return to work full time. After many late night discussions, visits and consults with Dean's doctors, they decided to enrol Dean in daycare.

They researched every daycare that was close by, went in and inspected the facilities and interviewed the care givers. They finally chose the Little Sunshine Day Care as it had an excellent reputation and Karen Jenks, the lady who ran the daycare, had impeccable references, and the place was clean and tidy. It was a smaller daycare and looked friendly, warm and inviting. Karen was very encouraging and sympathetic to Dean's situation.

--

Dean sat in the back of his father's Impala as his dad drove him toward the daycare on his first day. He was confused by what it was and he was scared. Were they taking him to the bad boy place?

John looked into the rear view mirror and saw the tears welling in Dean's eyes. He wanted to kill Kate Marsh all over again. "It's okay, Dean," John said when they reached the day care. He got out of the car, unbuckled Dean from his car seat and gave him a big hug. "I'm going to stay with you until you're ready. You're going to have lots of fun. Trust me, okay, kiddo."

"'Kay, daddy," Dean said. He tried to be brave and followed his father into the scary building.

Dean was surprised when he walked in. There were lots of other kids and they all seemed to be playing happily. It was bright and sunny. There didn't seem to be any closets and he could see two boys in the corner playing with cars in a sandbox. That really impressed the three year old as Dean stared at it wide eyed. He had never seen a sandbox inside before and he really wanted to go play in it.

Karen Jenks came over and greeted the small boy and his father. She saw Dean eyeing the sand. "Hi. You must be Dean," she said and knelt down at eye level with him.

Dean gave a small nod as he shrank back against his father.

Karen didn't let it deter her. "Everybody here calls me Ms. Karen. Do you like playing in the sand?"

Again Dean nodded. A little firmer this time.

"Want to play with Jimmy and Mikey? I just know you guys are going to be good friends."

Dean was unsure of this situation. He had played with Maggie, Aunt Kathy's daughter, but Dean hadn't liked her ever since she tried to make him wear a dress when they played tea party. His contact with other kids his own age had been limited. At first, it was necessary due to his weakened immune system, and later because of his over protective parents. Dean looked uncertainly at his dad.

"It's okay, Dean. Go on," John encouraged. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here."

Dean hesitantly followed Ms. Karen. He kept glancing back over his shoulder though, as if to reassure himself that his daddy was still there. The lady introduced him to the two other boys, and the boy called Jimmy gave him a toy truck that they weren't using. Soon, all three boys were driving their cars through the sand.

John kept a discrete eye on his son throughout the day. Karen asked John if he would help supervise those that were drawing, making sure they marked on their papers, not on the table or each other. John agreed as the area was close by where Dean was playing.

As the day wore on, John realized that they had definitely chosen the right place for Dean. He really liked the way Karen was with him. She had an endless supply of patience. Plus, every time Dean went over to his dad, she would direct him toward another area of the daycare. Dean was never far from his sight, but he was never right by his dad's side either.

When the time came to go home, John watched as his son approached his teacher. "Ms. Karen," he said tentatively. "I want you to have this." He handed her the picture he had drawn. It was a little stick figure standing next to what looked like a box with circles.

"That's my baby brother," Dean told her proudly. "He's still in mommy's tummy. Mommy and daddy are going to name him 'Pala, after our car. Right, daddy?"

"It's still undecided," John said with an indulgent smile. No matter how many times the young couple informed their son they were not naming the new baby after the car, Dean refused to be deterred. "You go say goodbye to Jimmy and Mikey and I'll get your coat." He turned back to the teacher. "Thanks for today, you were good with him. And for the record, the baby's name is going to be Samuel or Samantha." This had been decided long ago.

Karen smiled. "You're welcome. Don't worry though, naming a baby after a car isn't the worse thing I've heard. One of my kids told her parents to name her sister Icky-Gross."

John chucked as his son returned to his side. "We'll see you tomorrow."

--

The next couple of weeks went smoothly. John and Mary were both still a little apprehensive about the pregnancy. Their plan to wait until Mary was further along before telling anyone didn't last long. Dean insisted on telling everyone about his little brother, 'Pala. As he could not be persuaded to give up the name, he would also not give up the notion that he was having a brother.

As time went by, Dean looked for his father less and less at the daycare. John wasn't sure how he was going to react when he told Dean that he wasn't going to stay with him, but John and Mary knew the day was coming. They sat him down one evening and had a long talk, telling him that mommy was going to drop him off at the day care and come back for him later. Dean didn't like that one bit and he let his parents know it. As hard as it was, they had to do this. Once he realized that his mommy and daddy would come back for him, he would be fine. They just had to get through the next day. It was going to be as hard on his parents as it was on Dean himself.

Dean sniffled in the back of the car the whole drive. He looked like he was going to burst into tears at any moment and Mary felt her heart breaking, but she knew that she had to do this.

Mary got Dean out of the car and led the reluctant little boy toward the daycare. She could feel Dean's resistance in every step. She stopped a few feet from the door and knelt down so that she was at eye level with her son.

"I know this is tough, Dean-o. I just want you to know that I think you're a very brave boy for staying here all on your own."

"I wanna go'ome, mommy," Dean said, voice wavering.

"It's alright to be scared, son. It's part of being brave."

That intrigued the little boy and he stared at his mother.

"I understand you're a little scared, but you like it here, right? You like playing with Jimmy and Mikey and you like Ms. Karen?"

Dean nodded.

"I know this is going to be tough, but you can do it. I have faith in you and remember what I told you when I couldn't be beside you."

"That angels watch over us," Dean replied.

"That's right. Are you ready?"

"But what if you forget me, mommy?" Dean said fearfully.

"I told you that would never happen," Mary said firmly.

"But you forgot the dwy cleaning and daddy got mad and said he hads to wait two days to get his shirts."

"I wouldn't forget you, Dean," Mary repeated.

"But you forgot..."

"Okay, Dean," Mary said cutting him off. He never forgot anything. "Can I tell you something?"

"What, mommy? Is it a secret?" Dean said excitedly, all his fears momentarily forgotten.

"No, it's not a secret, it's just something that mommy wants to share with you."

"Tell me, mommy, tell me," Dean begged.

"Okay, kiddo. There are two ways to remember things, one is with your head and one is with your heart. When you remember things with your head, like dry cleaning, sometimes it's possible to forget them, but," she continued quickly. "There are a few precious things that you remember with your heart, and that's how I remember you and daddy. When you remember things with your heart, it's impossible to forget them."

Dean looked at his mother in awe. "Never ever?" he asked. To the three year old, never ever was the longest possible period of time.

"Never ever," Mary confirmed as she led her son over to his teacher.

The day was tough for Dean. He was still scared, despite what his mom had told him. He spent the first hour looking out the window for his parents. Karen tried to distract him, asking Dean to be her special helper, and that worked to some extent, but Dean still kept drifting toward the window. When daycare was over for the day, Dean ran out and found his mommy and his daddy waiting for him. He ran into their arms and happily told them all about his day.

It got easier for Dean each day after that. After all, his mommy and daddy remembered him with their hearts and they were there to pick him up each day.

--

The next couple of months passed quickly and Dean had his fourth birthday. He invited Mikey and Jimmy and they went out to Dean's favourite restaurant.

Mary's pregnancy was entering its fifth month and just after Dean's birthday, Mary got a call from Karen Jenks that made her really nervous. Quiet time was the one area where Karen had trouble with Dean, he just never liked to lay still, so when he was actually falling asleep in the afternoon and it seemed like he had trouble catching his breath after strenuous play, she was worried about him.

Mary feared that the PDA he had been born with had opened back up. He was displaying all the symptoms. If it had, it meant open heart surgery for her four year old son. The Indomethicin wouldn't work a third time.

Dean had actually just had a full check up after his birthday, complete with blood tests and x-rays. Telling him that he had to go back to the hospital for more tests would not go over well. Mary came up with an idea that would allow her to see if the tests were even necessary.

She called Dr. Williams and asked him if he would go along with her plan. He agreed, so then she called Karen and let her know that Dean wouldn't let be in the next day.

"Dean," Mary said to her son as she tucked him in that night.

"Yeah, mommy?"

"How'd you like to come to the hospital with mommy tomorrow?"

Dean looked at her wide eyed. "Don't like the hos'pal mommy. Don't wants to go."

"It's alright, Dean-o. The appointment is for me, not you."

"You have a 'poinment, mommy. Are they going to give you a shot?"

"No, sweetie. I have an appointment with my doctor. He wants to do a test on me and the baby. It's called a sonogram. It's like an x-ray. You'll get to see your baby brother or sister."

That excited Dean. "I can see 'Pala."

"Sam," Mary corrected gently.

"I won't get a shot," Dean needed confirmation.

"No," Mary said with a sad smile.

"'Kay. I can't wait to see 'Pala, mommy."

Mary just shook her head. She'd work on that later.

--

Dean was really excited when he woke up the next morning. He was going to see his brother. They drove to the hospital and Mary was glad that Dean wasn't fussing as he usually did when they went to the hospital. Of course, this time, he wasn't the patient.

Mary went to see Dr. Williams. He instructed her to put on a gown while he entertained her son as she changed. She came out and lay on the bed. After promising Dean that the test wouldn't hurt his mommy, Dr. Williams put the gel on Mary's stomach and held the scanner over her stomach.

Mary looked at the screen and smiled widely when she saw her baby. Being a nurse, she knew how to read the sonogram and knew that Dean had been right. She was having a boy. Her little Sammy. Now they just needed to convince Dean that naming the baby after the car was not a good idea.

"Where's 'Pala, mommy?" he asked. He couldn't make out anything.

"It can be a little hard to see," Dr. Williams confirmed. He pointed out something on the screen. "He's right there. Do you want to hear his heartbeat?" he asked changing the subject. He really didn't want to explain the sonogram to the four year old.

"Yes," Mary and Dean both said excitedly.

Dr. Tyler flipped a switch and the sound of the heartbeat filled the room.

"Is that what my heart beat sounds like, mommy?"

"Yours would be a bit different," Mary said, her voice thick with emotion at hearing her baby's heart beat for the first time. She wished John was here. "The baby's heart beat is a lot faster than yours."

"Hey, Dean," Dr. Williams said as if the idea had just occurred to him. This is what Mary had asked him for. "Do you think your brother might want to hear your heart beat?"

Dean looked a little wary. Were they trying to give him a check up? "Do I have to get a shot?" he asked fearfully.

"Nope," Dr. Tyler confirmed. He picked up his stethoscope. "Can you lift your shirt for me?" he asked.

Dean cautiously lifted his t-shirt and allowed Dr. Tyler to lay the cold metal disk on his chest. "There it is," he said. He listened for a minute and then transferred the earpiece onto Mary's stomach. "Now your brother is listening to your heart beat." He shot a glance at Mary.

"Can mommy listen, Dean?" she asked after a while.

Dean was really growing wary. When had this become about him? "'Kay," he sighed. Mary listened and heard a distinct murmur that she had been worried about.

Dr. Williams called Sarah, his nurse, and asked her to take Dean over and let him feed the fish.

"I think you better call his cardiologist, Mary," Williams said.

"Damn it," Mary said under her breath. "I'll stop by on my way out," she said as she got off the exam table and went to get dressed. She had been told to avoid stress. Having to help her four year old son through open heart surgery was not going to make that easy.

--

It was during the sixth month of Mary's pregnancy that Dean was scheduled for surgery. It was extremely rough, but with the help of his parents, Dean got through it. John and Mary were so proud of him.

John and Mary Winchester were also happy that the pregnancy seemed to pass without incident. Dean remained the proud big brother to be, and his parents couldn't be happier.

Then, on May 1, 1983, Mary went into labour. John got Dean up and told him that he would be meeting his brother in a few hours. Dean fussed at being left at Kathy and Mike's, but he was so excited about his brother that it didn't last long when Kathy promised to bring him to the hospital as soon as the baby was born.

Four hours later at 12:01 am on May 2, 1983, 7lb 10 ounce Samuel Francis Winchester entered the world. Both parents were ecstatic with their brown haired, brown eyed baby boy. He was perfect. John and Mary were both excited and called Kathy to bring Dean to the hospital as soon as possible to meet his baby brother.

Kathy said that Dean had tried to stay up, but had eventually succumbed to sleep, so Mary said not to wake him, he needed his rest.

When Dean finally awoke, he immediately insisted on being brought to the hospital.

"Is that 'Pala, mommy?" Dean asked as he laid his eyes on his brother for the first time. He was fascinated and it was love at first sight.

"Impala Winchester does have a nice ring to it," John said. "Maybe we should consider it."

"Don't even think about it," Mary said glaring at her husband and then she turned back to her eldest son.

"This is Sammy, honey," Mary said gently and firmly. "Don't you think it's a nice name?"

"Mommy, you said a baby's name is important," Dean accused.

"It is, honey. Your dad's mom's name was Samantha..."

"You named my brother after a girl?" Dean asked in a horrified tone.

"Samuel is a male version," Mary explained patiently. "It goes with Dean as well. Dean and Sammy."

Dean seemed to ponder this for a few minutes. "I like it," he announced finally. He could get used to the idea, and the baby looked like a Sammy.

"Sammy," Dean said softly and lightly stroked the baby's hand.

"Want to hold him?" Mary asked.

"Can I?" Dean said excitedly.

"Of Course. Sit in that chair," Mary said pointed to a seat by the bed.

Dean took a seat and John carefully arranged the baby so that he was in Dean's arms, but John still had a firm hold on the baby.

Dean looked down into the brown eyes of his baby brother. "Hi, Sammy. I'm your big brother Dean. I'm gonna help mommy and daddy look after you, so you'll never be scared. That's what big brothers do."

Baby Sammy gave a soft coo, as if he were agreeing with his brother.

Mary watched her boys. She could see the love they already had for each other. Dean would be Sammy's teacher and big brother, and Sammy would worship the ground Dean walked on. They would watch each other's backs and they would be there for one another. No matter what.

A/N: I know I glossed over Dean's heart surgery, but I plan to expand on it in a later chapter. I also played with the heart condition Dean was born with. It usually clears up by the time the baby is one or two, so I took a little creative license.

Also Tad and Joey are the only brothers I know on daytime TV, but I have no idea if they were on the show in the early 80s. If I got the time line wrong and there are any long time AMC fan, please forgive the mistake.

Please remember to make my day and read and review. Even just one makes me happy.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

I'm so sorry for the delay in posting this, but I had a really bad case of writers block on this chapter and the next. I hope the next chapter won't as long as a wait. I hope to have it ready to send to my beta by the end of today.

Once again I need to say my thanks my beta reader Soar, and I would also like to add my thanks for to JuliaAurelia and Sinead-Conlan for their feedback on this chapter.

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

Present Day

Bobby Singer sat at an empty table in the cafeteria, with a steaming cup of hot coffee sitting in front of him, untouched. His hands were perched on the table, gripping a napkin and tearing it to shreds.

Things had started out on a positive note. Dean's doctor had told them that there was a match, that he would get his transplant. It was risky, but Dean was strong, he had a fighting chance.

Bobby had held out hope that he was the one that was going to save Dean. He wanted it so bad that he could taste it. Instead, he had to listen as the doctor explained when Sam would have to be admitted.

Before the doctor could say much more, his pager went off and he had to take an urgent call. He apologized and said he would be back to explain the upcoming tests Dean was facing. Bobby quickly said that he was going on a coffee run, and he followed the doctor out of the room. Once outside, he asked the one question he didn't want to ask, and heard the one answer he didn't want to hear.

Sam.

That one word had Bobby wishing the ground would swallow him whole. His biological connection was the only thing he had with his son, and now he felt like he was losing even that. He had wandered aimlessly to the cafeteria, all the while contemplating just going home. What good was he now?

"Is this seat taken?" He heard a voice next to him ask.

Bobby looked up and saw the last person he wanted to see. "What do you want?" he said in hostile tone.

"Can I sit down?" John Winchester asked tentatively.

"It's a free country," Bobby said as John pulled the chair out and took a seat next to the man he had once considered a brother. So much had happened since then.

"Look Bobby, I..."

"Don't," Bobby snapped. "You got what you wanted. You have Dean, he'll have your D..."

"If you're done with the pity party, maybe I can speak," John snapped back.

Bobby glared at him and two teenagers looked over from the next table with interest, hoping for a fight.

"Shut up Wi… Colt," Bobby corrected quickly, never knowing who might be listening. "Sam's the match, you win, okay?"

"No, it's not okay. My..." John stopped as Sam's words popped into his head. _When will you get that this isn't about you? _"Our son is fighting for his life. This isn't about who won or lost. Dean's got a match. That should be the only thing that matters. I know you wanted it to be you. I know what you're feeling because, hell, I wanted it to be me. It doesn't matter whose blood runs through his veins, Bobby. He'll always be your kid, the same way he's mine, because you love him. You're still going to worry just as much, and feel the same pride you always felt. You know how I know this? Because it's what I felt from the first time I laid eyes on him."

Bobby really didn't know what to say to that. There was a lot about John and the way he treated Dean that Bobby didn't like, but the one thing he had never doubted was that John loved Dean just as much as he loved Sam. Hell, he loved Sam as much as he loved Dean and blood didn't have a damn thing to do with it. "I just..." he didn't finish the sentence.

"You want to help him, take his place, make the hurt go away, make it all better," John finished.

"Yeah," Bobby admitted softly.

"Sometimes, Bobby, just being by his side is all you can do. No matter how much it hurts, and it does, you remember that he's your son and that he needs us. _**All**_ of us."

"But how do you stand by when..."

"It's not easy, and there are some days you want to run screaming because you're not sure if you can stand it anymore, watching your child suffer," John said. He took a deep breath, as if gathering his thoughts. He continued after a moment. "I remember the doctor telling me my four year old son needed open heart surgery. I remember those words as crystal clear as if they were spoken yesterday. The day they took him from Mary's arms to take him to the operating room, I don't know who was more afraid, us or Dean, but we had to be brave for our son. We need to do the same thing here, Bobby. That's how I'm getting though this. I know Mary would want me to be brave for our son, and I think about that every day."

"This still sucks," Bobby grumbled.

"It does," John agreed. "It also won't get any easier. Truce?" John finished and extended his hand.

"Truce," Bobby said and he reached over and accepted it.

--

Sam had remained in Dean's room as his dad went after Bobby. They were waiting for the doctor to come back. Dean wasn't saying much and Sam was worried about him withdrawing into himself, as he often did when things overwhelmed him.

"Sorry about that," Dr. Scott said when he returned a short time later.

"No problem," Sam said.

"Alright guys," Dr. Scott began. "You're going to need to know what to expect over the next few days. Do you want to wait until your dad and uncle get here?"

"It's okay," Sam spoke for himself and his brother, ignoring Dean's glare. "We can fill them in later."

"No problem. If you guys have any questions, feel free to stop me at any time. First, Dean, we have to do extensive testing. We need to test your heart, liver, lungs, kidneys, etc."

"Will they hurt?' Sam piped up, asking the question that Sam knew was on Dean's mind, but would never make it past his lips. Sometimes, Sam wished he would just drop the tough guy act. He wasn't fooling anyone.

"Most shouldn't, but there are a few that are unpleasant."

"Like what?" Sam inquired.

"You're going to do another bone marrow aren't you?" Dean asked in a resigned tone before the doctor had a chance to answer.

"Yes," Dr. Scott admitted. "They're going to be done on a weekly basis from here on out."

"Pardon me?" Dean said in disbelief. _No way, no way in hell. _

"We have to, Dean," Dr. Scott said gently.

"Can't they just use a catheter?" Sam wanted to know. He wanted to spare Dean more pain.

"Wouldn't help," Dean said dejectedly. "First, I don't want any more tubes, and second, the part that actually hurts is when they fill the needle. Sammy's going to be asleep when you do that part, right?"

_Stupid jerk, Sam thought affectionately. Just once can't he think of himself?_

"Yes, Sam will be under a general anaesthetic. He'll just be sore for a few days afterward."

"I don't want hi..."

_Enough is Enough. _"Stuff it, Dean. Right now!" he said firmly.

"It's my job to look out for you," Dean protested.

"What do you think my job is?" Sam shot back. "You sacrificed everything for me. Don't you think I'd do the same for you? You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you and I don't care what it takes, I'm going to get you through this. Guess I get to save your ass for a change."

Dr. Scott felt a little uncomfortable intruding on such a private moment between the brothers. He cleared his throat, trying to get their attention again. "Anyway, the purpose of the bone marrow tests is so that I can make a payment on my yacht…" He stopped abruptly. "Oops, did I say that out loud? I mean we need to get accurate readings and well, you know."

Dean grinned. He couldn't help it. "Knew that had to be the real reason you all prescribe so many tests," he said with a small chuckle.

"Just please don't tell anyone. If it gets out, I could lose my license," Dr. Scott said, pretending to beg.

Sam couldn't help but laugh as well. "Just get my brother through this and your secrets are safe with me," Sam said.

Dr. Scott looked Sam in eye and said firmly. "Everything in my power, Sam. You have my word on that."

--

Dean didn't get much chance to rest as the testing started the next day. If he thought the tests were bad when the doctors were trying to find out what was wrong with him, it was nothing compared to what he was going through now. There were scans, x-rays, needles and hands probing every part of his body. Dean hated every minute of it and he was growing crankier as the week went on. Even Bobby found his patience tried at times.

Dean wished the end of the week would bring some relief, as it stared to draw nearer, but it didn't. He knew that the end of the testing meant the chemotherapy would start, and that meant that they would stick him in some small room, they would shut the door, and they wouldn't let him out.

_Stop it, don't think about it, he reprimanded himself as he gave an involuntary shudder. _

Sam had been sitting by Dean's bed, flipping through a magazine. His father and Bobby had gone back to the motel to catch a nap. He looked over when he heard Dean start to get fidgety. Sam wasn't sure if he was thinking of what would be happening in a couple of days, or if he was just sore. They had done a bone marrow test on him that morning.

John was supposed to have been going with him, but Sam had put his foot down. He wanted to be with his brother, and he had to admit that he wanted to know what he was in store for as well. When he saw what the doctor's did to his brother, Sam had to admit that he was glad that he was going to be asleep during the process. Guilt quickly followed that, though, as Sam knew that Dean didn't have that option.

"You okay?" he inquired.

"Knock it off," Dean snapped back.

"Hey guys," Dr. Scott said, coming into the room before Sam had a chance to respond. "How's the hip, Dean?"

"Just peachy," Dean said in a grouchy tone. "What do you want?"

"Dean," Sam said in a warning tone that clearly stated 'play nice'.

Dean didn't say anything, he just glared at his brother.

"Sam, I need you to leave for a little while. There are some things I need to speak with Dean about privately. "

"You can say anything in front of him," Dean insisted.

"I know, but this one's non-negotiable. This is a two person conversation. Give us about a half hour, Sam," Dr. Scott said in a tone that indicated he would not take no for an answer.

After another token protest that fell on deaf ears, Sam reluctantly complied.

"What?" Dean huffed.

"You have a couple more tests scheduled for tomorrow and then you have two days to rest up before we start your chemo. Most people find the chemo the worst part of this whole process. Do you know much about the side effects?"

"Just the standard ones," Dean admitted softly, trying to keep himself under control. Chemo meant isolation. _Damn it, stop thinking about it. _"It makes you puke and makes your hair fall out. Am I going to lose mine?"

"It's almost a certainty with the doses you'll be receiving. It'll grow back though. I can promise you that."

"If it doesn't, I'll just borrow some of Sam's," Dean said with a small smile, trying to make light of the situation.

Dr. Scott couldn't help but laugh at that one. "He's got more than enough," Dr. Scott agreed. "Chemo has a lot of side effects. Nausea and hair loss are just a couple. You may experience diarrhoea, mouth sores, which can make eating difficult, it can also affect your sense of taste and smell."

"Anything to make hospital food taste better is fine by me," Dean said.

"There's one more thing you need to know," Dr. Scott said seriously. "Is that chemotherapy can cause sterility."

That sobered Dean instantly. "Can I still have... I mean will I be able to…"

"Have sex?" Dr. Scott finished. "Yes, it doesn't impair sexual function, but it can cause you to become sterile."

"I won't be able to have kids?" Dean asked softly.

"It's not for sure. I know some people who have had chemo and have children, but you need to know it's a possibility."

Dean wasn't sure why this was affecting him so much. He didn't have kids, or at least he didn't think he did. He didn't want kids. It wasn't possible or fair with his lifestyle. Still, it had always been his choice, and to have it taken away was getting to him more than he thought possible.

"This is why I wanted to speak to you privately. Some people are uncomfortable discussing this in front of loved ones. As your doctor, I recommend storing some sperm, whether you want kids or not. That way, at least it gives you some control back," Dr. Scott suggested.

"I, um, guess I could," Dean said, a touch of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He dropped his eyes, staring at his hands.

"I'll set it up for tomorrow morning."

"You can't tell my dad or Sammy," Dean requested quickly.

"I won't," Dr. Scott promised. "Now, one more piece of unpleasant business. Despite every precaution, it's still possible to get an infection and due to other complications, you may not be capable of making medical decisions. Does anyone have your medical power of attorney?"

"Not officially, but Sammy knows what I would want."

"If there is no official paperwork, then any medical decisions would fall to your father. If you want your brother making those decisions, I need you and him to sign this form," Dr. Scott said handing it to his patient. "Do you have any questions?"

"No," Dean said. He really didn't want to talk anymore.

"Okay, I'm on for the next several hours. Any questions, you know where to find me."

Dr. Scott vacated the room, leaving Dean with his thoughts.

Did he want to put this on Sam? Would Sam be able to make the tough decisions? Dean knew that Sam would do anything for him and he would do the same for his brother. Dean really did not want be kept alive by a machine. Would Sam be able to pull the plug if it became necessary? He knew he couldn't do this to his brother. What about his father? It wasn't that Dean didn't trust his father, it was that he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that John would make decisions based on what he wanted, not what he thought his son would want. He wanted someone impartial, someone he trusted and that left...

"Hey Dean," Bobby said entering his room.

_Could he ask Bobby to do this, he wondered._

"Can I ask you something? You can say no if you want," Dean said tentatively.

_No I can't._ "Go ahead, Dean."

Dean fidgeted, looking everywhere but at Bobby. "Dr. Scott said I needed someone to make a decision if I can't," he said softly. "I don't want to be kept alive by a machine, Dad and Sammy wouldn't... I meant they couldn't..."

_No, baby, no. Don't ask me to do this. I can't, Bobby thought desperately. You don't know what you're asking me to do. I can't pull the plug on my own son. __**I can't. **_He was all set to refuse and then he opened his mouth and was surprised to hear himself say, "I'll make sure your wishes are followed." _Like hell. If they can save you, I'm telling them to go for it. _

"Thanks Bobby. I'm sorry for putting this on..."

"Dean, don't apologize. Anything I can do to make this easier for you, just ask, son. I'll do it."

"You could just sign me out of here and we could make a TJ run, senoritas, cervezas."

"Let's never do that," Bobby said. "How about we go see the Grand Canyon?" he suggested, knowing that it was the one place Dean had never been, and the one place he wanted to go.

Dean looked at Bobby in surprise. "How'd you know?" he asked.

_A father knows. _"I have my ways," was all Bobby would say.

--

The following day, Dr. Scott came for Dean, leaving Sam, Bobby and John wondering where he was going. He not only refused to tell them what kind of test he was scheduled for, but he also refused to let one of them come with him, which was something he usually insisted on.

Waiting for Dean to come back, Sam wished that he could separate his father and Bobby. The temporary truce had been strained to a breaking point when John found out that Dean had chosen Bobby as the one to make his medical decisions should he become unable.

Sam had understood it. He would have done the same thing if he was Dean, but it still hurt, and he knew his father was feeling hurt too, and John and Bobby had taken to snapping at each other again. Sam knew that John understood as well, but he tended to show his hurt as anger.

Dean was returned to his room a little while later and John could feel the tension coming off him. With the tests over, it was only two short days before Dean was to be moved into the isolation unit. Bobby had relayed a few stories of when he was in college, John told a few stories about the marines and Sam had related some college stories as well, all in an effort to distract Dean. The young hunter appreciated what they were trying to do, but it still didn't really take the edge off his fears.

Dr. Scott announced that he was pleased with Dean's test results, and agreed to release Dean for an hour the following day. No one was surprised when he requested to go back to Lick-a-Chick.

Fortunately, there was no crisis like the last time.

--

The next day found Dean extremely agitated. He just couldn't seem to settle down and nothing John, Bobby or Sam did could distract him.

Dr. Scott showed up after lunch with a wheelchair.

"What now?" Dean asked clearly exasperated.

"Relax," Dr. Scott said. "No tests. Honestly, I don't know if this going to help or hurt, but you're sitting here driving yourself crazy, so I'm taking away the mystery and I'm taking you up to the isolation ward for a tour. Your chariot awaits," he finished gesturing toward the chair.

"Do you want to do this, Dean?" John asked.

Dean honestly wasn't sure, but he couldn't deny that he was curious as to what he was in for. "Yeah, let's get this over with," he sighed. "Can't I walk?"

"No!" Dr Scott, Sam, John and Bobby all answered in unison.

"Just checking," Dean said and sat in the chair.

Dr. Scott pushed and the others followed. He led them to the elevator and up one floor to the oncology ward. He buzzed them in and Dean immediately saw that it was divided into two corridors. The one to the left was the children's ward, and it sobered the group when they saw a woman leading her child behind the doors. The kid was bald and Dean unconsciously reached up and lightly brushed his own spikes. He felt his father's hand on his shoulder and looked up and gave him a small grateful smile at the comforting gesture.

They continued down the hall to the right. The hallway was empty, for which Dean was grateful, and Dr. Scott led them down another hallway, up to another set of secured doors, and buzzed them in."

"There's a similar unit in the childrens ward as well," Dr. Scott explained.

"Are you going by mental age or physical?" Sam asked.

"Shut up," Dean said to his brother and gave him a small shove. He knew that Sam was just trying to distract him and he appreciated it, but it still didn't change the fact that he felt like his heart was about to beat right out of his chest.

"There're 10 units in total. You're in number 4, and it's right down this way," Dr. Scott explained and led the group to the room. "Each room has what we call an anteroom, and that's where your family can scrub up, gown up and get ready to visit you." He turned into one of the open doorways and Dean found himself in the small room that Dr. Scott called an anteroom.

It was a small room that contained a table with a couple of chairs and a phone. There was also a large window that allowed anyone sitting at the table to see into the isolation room and a sliding glass door that led into the isolation room itself.

"I can't take you right in because none of you are sterile right now," Dr. Scott explained. "The rooms are designed with special air exchangers and filters. There's also a window in the room. It's sealed, of course, but you're not totally cut off from everyone. One person's allowed in your room at a time, no exceptions to that rule," Dr. Scott said firmly. "The others can stay in the anteroom. That's what the table and the phone is for. Sam, Bobby, John, tomorrow while Dean's being settled, my nurse will be showing you how to properly sterilize yourselves so that you can actually go into the room with Dean."

"Can one of us be with him when he's getting the actual transplant?" John asked.

"Yup, anyone of you but Sam, of course," Dr. Scott said with a smile.

"Can we stay all day?" Bobby wanted to know. "Are we restricted to visiting hours?"

"As long as you're not in the way, or as long as you're not a danger to Dean, you can stay. If he constantly starts coming down with infections, we may have to restrict visitation, but let's not worry about that until it actually happens," he added when Dean visibly tensed up. "You'll have a TV, full cable, it's attached to a DVD player out at the nurses station. There's also a telephone, a treadmill for you to get some exercise, and a couple of chairs so you don't have to sit in bed all day. Anything you want to bring in, books, keepsakes, just make sure you give them to me by the end of the day, so they can be sterilized."

"Kay," Dean agreed. "I can't think of anything right now, though."

"Are you ready to head back, or do you have more questions?" Dr. Scott asked, and everyone shook their heads.

Dr. Scott led the group off the ward and back to Dean's room, where he helped settle the young hunter in bed. He injected a mild sedative into Dean's catheter, not enough to knock him out, but enough to take a bit off the edge of his anxiety and he was able to sleep.

"Dad, Bobby, there's something I have to do," Sam said. "I'll be back first thing tomorrow."

"What's up, kiddo?" John asked.

"Just trust me, okay. I think you'll like what I have in mind," was all Sam would say as he headed out the door.

--

When Dean awoke the next morning, he looked around for his family. He saw his dad and Bobby and he wondered where his brother was. He wasn't going to do this without his brother. Fortunately, the object of his thoughts showed up a few minutes later.

When he entered the room, Sam heard his father, brother, and Bobby address him as Samuel, Sammy, and Sam respectively before all three said in unison, "What the hell did you do?"

"What?" he said when he saw his family staring at him. "You always told me I needed to get a haircut. I decided you were right."

"Um, Sam, did you happen to notice what setting they had the razor on?" John asked, with a hint of a smile on his lips. He couldn't be any prouder of his youngest son.

"Yup," Sam said proudly and he reached up and rubbed his head

"Sammy, you didn't..." Dean said.

"I know I didn't," Sam said with a tender smile. "I wanted to."

Dr. Scott appeared then with a wheelchair. Dean felt his heartbeat speed up as he climbed into it. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned his head toward his brother.

"Thanks Sammy," he said softly as he met the gaze of a bald-headed Sammy, and he suddenly realized, he could get through anything, after all, he had his brother at his side.

TBC

As you can see the winner of the pole by an overwhelming majority was Sam. I hope those that voted for Bobby aren't too disappointed. He will still have an important part to play.

As always read and review. Everyone is appreciated.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Disclaimer: They still belong to Kripke.

I'm sorry for not responding to your all your reviews individually, it was just a busy few days. I figured you all would rather have the chapter, so I hope you all know that I appreciate you taking the time to respond.

Thanks again to my beta reader Soar, and as always addition thanks to Soar, Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for all their suggestions.

A/N: This flashback chapter is also going to be a bit different. It will start in the present.

_"Thanks Sammy," he said softly as he__met the gaze of a bald-headed Sammy and he suddenly realized that he could get through anything, after all,__he had his brother at his side._

He firmly believed that when he was wheeled out of his room and into the hallway.

He firmly believed that when he was wheeled onto the elevator.

He firmly believed that when they reached the oncology ward.

He firmly believed that until he saw the doors that would take him into the isolation ward coming closer with every step. At that moment, he felt as if something had clamped down on his chest, making it hard to breath, causing his heart to speed up and feel as if it was going to beat right out of his chest. Dean also, for the life him, couldn't figure out why the doctor was pushing his wheelchair in circles, either that or the room was spinning. He couldn't figure out which. He wanted to tell them to stop, but he couldn't because if he opened his mouth, he was going to puke.

The next thing he knew, his head was being forced between his knees and someone was coaching him to take deep breaths, and he felt a comforting hand on his back, stroking it in small circles.

--

John saw it coming. It had happened before, when he and Dean had been on a hunt and they had gotten stuck in the elevator. John first saw all the color drain out of Dean's face as they got off the elevator, and then his breathing sped up, and he noticed the death grip Dean had on the arms of the wheelchair.

"Stop," he ordered Dr. Scott. Dean was about 30 seconds away from either a full scale panic attack, or passing out cold.

He knelt beside his son and forced Dean's head between his knees. "Easy Dean. Deep breaths," he coached and rubbed small circles on Dean's back.

"I'm okay," Dean said shakily a few minutes later.

"You sure?" John said gently.

"Yeah," Dean insisted. "I'm fine." His tone indicated that he was anything but.

As John was trying to comfort Dean, Bobby watched as Dr. Scott pulled a pre-filled syringe out of his pocket.

"Don't," Bobby said firmly. He knew how Dean felt about sedatives and drugs. He had been surprised that Dean had allowed it the other day, but Bobby knew that he wouldn't go for it again.

"It's just some Ativan," Dr. Scott explained. "It's what I gave him yesterday. It won't knock him out, but it will take the edge off."

"I agree with Bobby," Sam replied. "I mean, are going to pump him with that stuff every time he gets shaky? I know my brother, doc. He's never let anything beat him. Give him a few minutes. He'll be able to get through this," he insisted.

Dr. Scott reluctantly put away the needle. "I'll give him the chance, but if he doesn't calm down, I'll have no choice."

As if on cue, Dean's head popped up. "Let's get this over with," he said. He appeared to have gotten himself under control, but his family could see that he was a little embarrassed at showing what he perceived as weakness.

Despite the words, Bobby had to admit that he was wondering how Dean was going to get through these next 6 weeks.

"It's okay Bobby, I have a plan," Sam said to the distraught man. "Trust me, okay?"

--

Nurse Cindy Upshaw was at the nursing station waiting for the arrival of her newest patient. She had been a nurse for 22 years, spending the first 15 years of her career on the oncology ward, and the last 7 working in the Bone Marrow Transplant Unit.

There was always one nurse on duty for each of the ten isolation units and it allowed her to spend a lot of time with the patients. It was tough when she lost one, but she felt that if she even helped one person walk out of here, it was all worth it.

Cindy was sitting at the nurses' station, reviewing the chart of her latest patient as she waited for him to arrive. According to Dr. Scott, he was claustrophobic. It wasn't the first time, Cindy had experienced this, but she usually used her wicked sense of humor to help her patients get through.

"Hi Cindy," she heard the doctor greet her.

"Hi Greg," she said returning his greeting with a big smile. She got her first look at her patient and she immediately noticed the same thing everyone did the first time they laid eyes on Dean Winchester. He was definitely good looking, yet despite that, Cindy found herself drawn to the air of innocence that surrounded him. She couldn't explain it, he wasn't a kid, he was close to 30, but there was just something about him that made Cindy want to mother him, to scoop him up in her arms and promise him that everything would be okay. "You must be Dean," she said introducing herself.

"Would you believe me if I said he was?" Dean said pointing at his brother.

"Should I be hurt at that statement?" she said with a mock pout. "I mean, if you don't want me as your nurse..."

"No, it's... never mind," Dean said. He would have had a snappy comeback, but his nerves were playing havoc with his ability to think.

Dr. Scott leaned over and whispered into the ear of his young patient. "Don't worry about it. I'm scared of her too."

Dean just grinned, his troubles temporarily forgotten.

"Dean, I'm going to take you and get you prepped to go into your iso... room," Dr. Scott quickly corrected himself. Dean visibly flinched whenever someone mentioned the word. "The rest of you I'll leave in Cindy's capable hands. She's going to run through the rules with you all, and show you how to properly sterilize yourself and put on the protective clothing."

Dean felt his heartbeat speed up again as he was led away from his family. He had to fight every urge he had to grab his father's hand. He was so busy trying to keep himself under control that he missed Cindy and Sam winking at each other.

--

Dean was led to a small bathroom and told he needed to shower with a special antibacterial soap, then instructed to put on a fresh hospital gown and drape a sterile sheet over himself like a robe. Dean was temporarily distracted by anger over the fact that he wasn't allowed to keep his PJs.

What the young hunter didn't know, was that in addition to shaving his head, Sam had gone back up to the ward with Dr. Scott, and met with Cindy the day before to arrange his plans. He knew the biggest task was going to be to keep Dean occupied and his thoughts focused away from his surroundings. Sam decided that focusing on how to get revenge on his baby brother would be the perfect thing, even though he knew he would be in for a world of hurt when Dean got better. He had arranged everything with Cindy, so when Dean got out of the shower, he found the blue sterile sheet, and a pink hospital gown.

He looked around for someone to tell them that they had made a mistake, but he had been told not to leave unless he was wrapped up like a mummy, and there was no one to ask. He briefly thought about just wrapping the sheet around him, but he wasn't sure what would happen when he got to his room. Would he just be asked to remove the sheet? He didn't want his nurse to see him in his birthday suit. Not knowing what else to do, he realized that he had little choice but to put on the hated gown. Once it was on, he quickly draped the sheet over it, making sure to cover every bit of the pink.

Cindy met him when he was done and told him that Dr. Scott was waiting for him in his room. Dean was about to ask for another gown when she spoke again and took the words right out of his mouth.

"Your brother said pink was your favourite color. I'm just so glad I could find one in your size, it was really tough," Cindy said as she assisted Dean back into the wheel chair. "That shade does look great on you, though. It really matches your eyes." Cindy added as she reached over and adjusted the sheet. When Dean had sat down, part of it had slipped off his shoulder, revealing the pink underneath.

_Sam you are so dead, Dean thought. _His mind was going a mile a minute, not on trying to control his nerves, but on ways to kill his brother and get away with it. He was so focused on those thoughts that he didn't even notice as a fully gowned and gloved Dr. Scott assisted him from his wheelchair and led him through the glass doors and into the isolation unit.

The young hunter finally shook himself out of his thoughts as Dr. Scott told him that he could remove the sheet and he held out his hand for it. _Hell, no, was what ran through his mind. _He was still in pink. He pulled the fabric tighter instead. There was no doubt about it. Sam Winchester was a dead man.

"Dean," he prompted when the young man made no move to comply.

"Can I keep it?" Dean wanted to know. He could see his family through the window. He would never hear the end of it if they saw his attire. _Had_ _he happened to mention that Sam was going to die?_

"Sorry, we need it back. You can grab the robe that's hanging on the back of your bathroom door, if you're cold," Dr. Scott suggested, trying to keep the amused tone out of his voice. He knew why Dean didn't want to remove the sheet.

Dean sat on the edge of his bed. As soon as he did, the sheet fell from his shoulders, forgotten, as Dean saw the photo on the table beside his bed. It was the photograph of his father and mother that he had given Sam when he had left for college. It had cost him a lot to give up that photo. It was the only one he had of his mother. He didn't even know his brother had still had it, or that it had even survived the fire in Sam's apartment.

"Your brother said you'd want that," Dr. Scott explained.

Dean reached out and rubbed his hand across the frame lightly. _Okay, maybe he wouldn't kill Sam, but he was still going to hurt him badly. _

The uncomfortable feeling he'd had a couple days ago returned as Dr. Scott observed his patient. He felt like he was intruding on something private. He awkwardly cleared his throat and continued speaking. "Your uncle said that you want this as well." Dr. Scott pointed to the IV stand that was on the opposite side of his bed. Hanging from it was the amulet that Sam had given him for Christmas when he was 12. The only time Dean ever took it off was when he was in the hospital and they stopped him from wearing it, and he had really missed its comforting presence around his neck.

It was easy to tell from just looking at his patient that the strange object was important to the young man. "I'm sorry we can't let you wear it, but you can leave it hanging on your IV stand," he felt the need to apologize for some reason he couldn't figure out.

Dean decided right there and then that he was going to forgive Bobby if he laughed at him for wearing pink.

"There's one more surprise. Take a look out of the window. I'd really like to know how your father pulled that one off. That's the hospital administrator's spot."

Dean walked over to the window and looked out. There wasn't much of a view, as you could only see a parking lot, but in the spot Dr. Scott had mentioned was the Impala. Dean had a good view of it from his room.

Dean decided that his father would be instantly forgiven as well.

"I think your brother's coming in first and he should be here soon. Now some unpleasant business, your first dose of chemo," Dr. Scott said and handed Dean some pills and a small cup of clear liquid.

Dean swallowed them without protest, although he almost spit out the liquid as it tasted disgusting, and he got his first really good look at Dr. Scott.

He was covered from head to toe. There was a cap over his hair and a mask over his mouth and nose. A paper gown covered his clothes and there were even little plastic coverings for his shoes. His hands were covered in latex gloves.

Before Dean had a chance to really have it sink in where he was, Sam walked into the room in his full protective gear.

"Hey Dean," Sam said not evening trying to keep the amusement out of his voice. "You look great."

"Just you wait," Dean threatened. "When you're not expecting it, revenge will be mine." He turned to his doctor. He really wanted a different gown. "Can I get a..."

"I'll be back in a couple of hours to see how you're getting along," Dr. Scott interrupted him and quickly walked out of the room.

"I don't know, Dean, I think its suits you," Sam confirmed as he and his brother took a seat. Dean had refused to get into bed until he absolutely had to. John and Bobby were seated at the table in the anteroom and they were all on speaker phone.

"Shut up," Dean mumbled. He was wondering if he was going to have to resign himself to wearing pink the entire time.

"Love the gown, son," John said.

"Shut up," Dean grumbled again. "Bobby can you ask Cindy or Dr. Scott for a new one," Dean replied.

"You got it," Bobby confirmed.

"Traitor," Sam mumbled.

The teasing and the banter continued as Sam, Bobby and John tried to keep Dean's mind occupied, but being, in the room, Sam didn't miss it when, a short time later, he saw Dean's hand drift toward his stomach and Sam wondered if he was feeling the effects of the chemo.

--

"Hey dad," Dean said. "Can you..." he trailed off.

"Can I what, Dean?" John asked, a touch of concern coloring his voice. "Sam," John addressed his youngest son. It was killing him that he couldn't rush in there and comfort his son.

"I'm okay," Dean said and tried to take some discreet, deep breaths. He had just been struck with a wave of nausea.

He didn't fool anyone. "You need this?" Sam asked as he picked up the emesis basin and handed it to his brother.

"No!" Dean snapped. _Why couldn't they just leave him alone? He just needed a minute. _

The three hunters watched helplessly as Dean lowered his head into his hand and closed his eyes. They were all surprised when Dean got up wordlessly, walked over to his bed and climbed in, his back turned to the group. That alone said volumes about how Dean was really feeling.

Bobby and John were on their feet, trying to get a better glimpse, wanting to make sure Dean was alright. Sam walked over to his brother.

"Go away, Sam," Dean said. He could feel his brother's presence even though his eyes were closed.

"I'm getting the nurse," Sam said and he reached over and pressed the call button.

Dean's eyes snapped open. "Damn it, Sam. I said I was fine," Dean huffed.

"Knock it off," Sam huffed back.

Sam saw Cindy come in to the anteroom, and saw his father and Bobby having a word with her, then she started to scrub in and don the protective coverings. It wasn't long before she entered the room.

"Hey Dean," she said. "How's the nausea?"

"It's fine," Dean said. "He just overreacts."

"You sure?" Cindy said as if she didn't buy Dean's answer for a minute. "I can give you a shot of compazine and it will help with the nausea. You need to be honest with how you're feeling. We can make this easier, but we need to know." She wasn't buying Dean's tough guy act for a minute.

"I said I'm..." Dean stopped abruptly, and Sam saw him swallowing convulsively, as if he was trying to stop himself from throwing up.

"Here Dean," Sam said once again handing him the basin. This time Dean grabbed it from his brother's hand and made use of it.

Bobby and John were watching helplessly from behind the glass as Dean threw up. They saw Sam say something to Dean. They watched as Cindy set up an IV and attached it to Dean's catheter, then she injected something into it, both wondering what was happening.

It wasn't long before Dean drifted off to sleep and Sam stepped out of the room.

"Sam, what's going on?" John wanted to know.

"Cindy said it was a side effect of the chemo and that it was normal. She started the IV to prevent him from getting dehydrated if he's vomiting."

"Did she sedate him?" Bobby asked. He knew how Dean felt about that.

"No," Sam said. "She gave him a shot of an anti-nausea medication called compazine. It should help. Cindy's going to stick around for a while to make sure he gets along okay. He has more pills to take when he wakes up."

"John," Bobby spoke up. "I know it's your turn, but I want to go in. I just want to sit with him for a while."

John wanted to refuse. He wanted to sit with his boy, but he was making an effort to get along with Bobby. "Sure," he agreed. "Me and Sam are going to get something to eat. Do you want anything?"

"Just coffee," Bobby said. He got the gear on and went into Dean's room. He greeted Cindy and took a seat across from his sleeping son.

--

Bobby Singer was a man who usually didn't believe in fate or coincidences, but everything that had led up to this point had left him wondering.

If Bobby hadn't spoken without thinking to Mandy, he might have been the one to raise his son, but if Dean had developed aplastic anaemia, Bobby wasn't a match. Was it fate that John Winchester had been to one to adopt Dean, and that John's biological son was a bone marrow match, or would Mandy have matched? Would they have had other children?

Was it also coincidence that the private detective Bobby had hired was Caleb Graham, a private investigator and hunter?

It was Caleb that a psychic name Missouri Moseley contacted when John Winchester announced his desire to hunt, as he had an excellent reputation for training new hunters.

Caleb had thought long and hard about telling Bobby. He wasn't sure if he would have heard about it or not, so he went to see the man that had become a friend and told him everything about what was really out there in the dark. It had shaken Bobby's world to its very foundation, but it also gave him an idea.

He wanted to learn to hunt. Then he could "accidentally" bump into John Winchester. He could truly meet his son. Caleb hadn't wanted to teach him. He had warned him that hunting was a tough life, but nothing could deter Bobby.

Not wanting two hunters out there who didn't know what they were doing, Caleb agreed to train them together. Bobby had offered John a job in his garage and a place to live, and John had accepted gratefully and shown up a few days later.

As Bobby watched his sleeping son, he couldn't help but remember that day.

--

1983

The young mechanic was sitting on his porch, drinking a beer as he waited for the arrival of the Winchesters. He had tried to spend the morning in his garage, but had vacated it after nearly killing himself twice. He was so anxious for his son's arrival that every time he heard a car, he ran to check. The first time, he had tripped over some engine parts and nearly took a header into the wall. The second time, he had stood up so fast that he had banged his head on the open truck lid.

It was just past three in the afternoon when he finally heard a rumble of a car engine, and he watched as a shiny, black Impala pulled up into his driveway.

Forcing himself not to make a beeline for the two boys he could see in the backseat, Bobby took a deep breath and walked at a normal pace to greet the man getting out from behind the wheel.

"Bobby Singer?" he asked hesitantly. "I'm John Winchester."

"Yup," Bobby confirmed.

"Um, thanks, you know, for letting us stay here," John blurted out.

"Caleb said you needed a place to stay and train. It's no problem."

"Did he..." John trailed off and glanced to the back seat. He could see Dean tickling his baby brother.

"Did he what?" Bobby shot back. He saw John staring at his son.

"Did he tell you about Dean?" John asked tentatively.

"No. What about him?" Bobby asked trying to keep his tone neutral. He really didn't need John suspecting anything. "Is he okay?" _Why hadn't Caleb told him that there was something wrong with his boy? _

"Physically," John confirmed. "He's had some problems since his mother's death."

"That's to be expected," Bobby said sincerely. "I'd like to meet them."

"You don't mind?" John said in surprised tone.

"Why?" Bobby asked curiously.

"It's just..." he paused. "Never mind, long story."

_Oh no, you don't. _"It's okay. Let's get the boys inside. You've probably had a long trip. I have a spare room that has a single bed, and I have a den with a pull out couch. It's not a problem to move the couch to the room, or the bed to the den. Or Dean can sleep with you on the couch, as it fits two. The only thing is, I don't have a crib."

"That's okay," John replied. "I have Sammy's playpen. He can sleep in that. I can set it up with me in the den and Dean will sleep in the room."

Bobby would have thought that he would have wanted Dean in with him. There was something going on that John wasn't telling him, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

He watched as John went to the back seat of the Impala, opened the door and reached in to unbuckle Sammy. The older boy immediately reached over and tried to stop him. He couldn't hear what John said as he gently pushed Dean's hands away from the baby. John picked Sam up, shut the door and stepped away from the car and started to walk toward Bobby. He was shocked that John had appeared to leave Dean sitting there. He was just about to say something when the back door opened, and a little, blond haired, green eyed boy jumped from the back seat and ran to his father and grabbed his leg, trying to hide behind it.

"Bobby," John said with a touch of pride. "These are my boys. This is Sammy, he's 9 months, and this is Dean, he's four."

Bobby felt his breath catch as he looked at his flesh and blood. He was the spitting image of his mother, with his big expressive eyes, and the way his ears stuck out just a little. He swallowed and knelt down beside the little boy. "Hi Dean," he said in a soft, gentle tone as he stuck out his hand.

John cringed. Bobby seemed like a nice guy, but he was grizzly looking, with his grease stained clothes and tattered hat and beard. He expected Dean to start screaming, as he usually did when something scared him. He almost dropped Sam in his shock at what happened next. Dean reached out tentatively and accepted the handshake.

"Come on, let's get inside. I bet you guys are hungry," he invited them and gestured toward the house behind him. Bobby was pleased with how the first meeting had gone.

--

After giving the Winchesters a quick tour of the house, Bobby left them to get settled and went to the kitchen to prepare dinner. He looked through his freezer, wondering what to make. What did kids eat? He remembered that day in the restaurant when Dean had tried the spaghetti, and he cursed himself for not making some sauce. He looked at the box of chicken nuggets in his freezer and decided to put those on for Dean. He would make some steaks for himself and John, and cut up some potatoes and make french fries for all three of them.

John wandered into the kitchen a short time later to see if Bobby needed help. The mechanic declined and asked about the boys. John said that Sammy was taking a nap and that Dean was in the living room looking at some picture books John had brought with him. Bobby poked his head up, and sure enough, there was Dean turning the pages of a book.

"There's some cold beer in the fridge if you want one," Bobby offered as he pulled the chicken nuggets out of the oven and turned them over.

"Thanks," John said gratefully as he went to the fridge and took one and popped the top. "You want one?" he asked.

Bobby looked up into the now empty living room. "Sure," he said as he accepted the amber bottle. "Where's Dean?"

John turned his gaze to where the book had been abandoned and the couch was empty. "Damn it," John growled and took off down the hall.

Bobby followed, his curiousity growing. He watched as John headed directly toward the den, and they found Dean sitting in the play pen, watching his sleeping brother.

"No Dean," John said firmly and lifted him out.

"Sammy," Dean muttered and struggled to get out of his father's arms, his eyes filling with tears. "Sammy," he whimpered.

"He's fine, Dean. You did a good job watching him, but now he needs to sleep."

"Sammy," Dean said again and tried to get out of his father's arms.

"Come on, let's go watch TV," John said and led the squirming four year old out the door.

Bobby wanted to tell John that there was no harm in leaving Dean to sit with his brother, but he didn't want to anger John and have the man accusing him of butting in, no matter how much he wanted to. He wandered back to the living room and found John sat on the couch with the four year old in his lap, with some cartoon show on TV.

--

Dinner didn't start off well. John brought Dean into the kitchen and told him to sit at the table and not move. He asked Bobby for a glass of water and brought out a pill bottle. Bobby felt his heartbeat speed up when he saw that the prescription was made out in Dean's name. _Was his son sick? Was it his heart? _"Is he alright?" Bobby asked. He had to know.

Bobby watched as a sad look came over John's face. "Yeah," he said with a sigh. "These are supposed to help with his anxiety," John finished, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

Again, Bobby had to tell himself not to push. He doubted that John was one to open up easily.

John bought the pill and the water over to his son. "Here Dean," he said.

The stubborn four year old shook his head.

"Dean, don't be difficult," John said in frustration.

"Do they help?" Bobby questioned.

"I wish," John mumbled. "The doctor said to give them a chance," he grumbled.

"I got a great idea," Bobby said. He knew he was taking a big risk doing this, but he had to try. Those stupid doctors had tried to put Dean on pills. It was their answer for everything. He picked up the pill bottle and threw it in the garbage.

Bobby could tell that John was trying to keep his temper in check, and he wondered if he had made a huge mistake. Then he watched a smile cross John's face for the first time since he had arrived. "Can you keep an eye on Dean for a second?" he requested.

"Sure," Bobby agreed eagerly. He watched as John came back with Sammy and two more pill bottles. He handed the pills to Bobby and asked him to store them with the others.

Bobby would have sworn that he saw Dean's eyes light up. He wasn't sure if that was because he wasn't going to have to take his meds, or because his baby brother was in the room. He suspected it was both.

When the timer went off, Bobby served up chicken nuggets to Dean and the steak for him and John. There was no highchair, so John tried to eat with Sammy on his lap.

"Dean, eat," John directed and Bobby guessed this was another ongoing battle.

Again, Dean shook his head.

Bobby once again saw that helpless look come over John's face.

"You have to eat," he all but ordered. "If you don't, you're going to have to go back in the hospital. They'll give an IV and that means you're going to get a needle," he threatened.

Bobby watched, feeling his own helplessness grow as Dean's eyes got rounder with every word John uttered, and they became shiny with unshed tears.

"Hey Dean," Bobby spoke up. "I'm sorry. I'm such an idiot. I guess I'm just not used to kids. I completely forgot that you're a big boy. Big boys don't really eat chicken nuggets anymore. I should have given you steak." Bobby cut off a small piece of his T-Bone and put it on Dean's plate, cutting it into small pieces. There, that's better. Eat up so you'll grow up big and strong, just like your daddy."

The four year old eyed his plate warily. He watched as his daddy cut off a piece and put it in his mouth. He wanted to be strong like his daddy. If he was strong, he could protect Sammy. He reached for his fork, speared a piece of meat and put it in his mouth. He reached for another and soon he was munching away.

John glanced at Bobby with a newfound respect. Meal times always turned into major battles that usually ended with tears, his and Dean's.

He was glad that he had decided to come here, it was really looking like the right decision.

--

Bobby sat out on his porch with a beer later that evening, and he was pleasantly surprised when John joined him.

"Thanks again, Bobby," John said sincerely.

"It's no problem," Bobby said. "I'm just glad I can help."

"Ever since his mother..." John trailed off.

"It's okay. Tell me about your boys, Johnny," he requested.

John couldn't help the smile that came over his face. For reasons he couldn't understand, John felt connected to Bobby, and he told him the story of how they came to be sitting on his porch.

TBC

The next chapter will be a bit different as well. It's going to be the same flashback, except told from John's point of view. So it will start in the past and finish in the present.

K Hanna Korossy is having a fan fiction auction for a fellow fanfic writer that needs a wheelchair. Its a really good cause, and since I'm don't have a lot of money, I have offered to write a story. So if you have a story idea you would like me or another author to write, please visit

http colon / www dot thefreeauction dot com

Registraion is free, and bidding is quick and easy.

Please review, I'm not to proud to beg.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Thanks once again to Soar for her beta work and suggestions on how to improve this chapter. I would also like to thank Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for there feedback and help with this chapter as well.

AN: Sorry for the delay in posting this. I had fully intended to do the same flashback as in chapter 17 from John's point of view but it was turning into the exact same chapter almost word for word, so I made a couple of changes.

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

**1983**

_KNOCK KNOCK_

John Winchester put down the dish towel he had been using to dry the supper dishes when he heard someone banging on the door. He really wanted to ignore it, because he had a feeling he knew who it was, and he really wasn't up to dealing with a lecture right now.

The two months since the fire had been hell. John didn't remember the first few days, afterwards. When the investigation had deemed the fire an accident, John had crawled into a bottle. His best friend and business partner had offered him a place to stay until John could get back on his feet. The only problem was that John wasn't interested in getting his head together, he just wanted the pain to stop, and he tried to do that with a bottle of whiskey.

He was grateful to his friends for everything they had done, as they had given him a roof over his head, and tried to look after the boys, but he couldn't deal with the lectures. They were telling him constantly that he needed to put aside his pain and help his eldest son deal with his. Dean wouldn't let Sam out of his sight, and got upset if anyone tried to take him away from his brother. The only word he would say was Sammy, and he was starting to have nightmares.

John just kept saying to give him time. He would be fine. He just needed to work things out in his own time, and in his own way.

After the first two weeks, Mike and Kathy had put their foot down and told John in no uncertain terms that it was time to get his act together. His son needed him. Dean wasn't getting better, he was getting worse. His attachment to his brother was unhealthy, and all the stress wasn't good for his health.

One night, Dean did get sick. With his medical history, Kathy and Mike had decided that it was best that they take him to the doctor. John was too hungover at the time to go with them. Dean had pitched a fit when they tried to take him away from his dad and brother. Fortunately, Mike had a good client from the garage who was a doctor, and he agreed to make a house call. Dean's infection turned out to be minor and was quickly cleared up with antibiotics, but this led Mike and Kathy to make a stand. Enough was enough, they told John. Dean and Sam needed him and he had 3 days to dry out, or they were kicking him out and keeping the boys with them.

The thought of losing his boys was more than John could take. John poured his liquor down the sink that night and tried to stay sober.

The Gunthers' worry only increased after that. John disappeared in the mornings, and at night, after the boys were put down, they noticed that John had started reading old books, and he had mentioned a few times that he thought Mary had been murdered.

They tried to make him see reason and convince him that he needed to get help for himself.

Unable to stand the interference, John finally rented an apartment and moved out, hoping he could pursue Mary's killer. He was convinced that something had caused the fire and killed his beloved wife.

Unfortunately, that didn't solve John's problems. Mike had seen him entering the home of a local palm reader, and his worry for John and the boys was growing exponentially, with Kathy coming by the apartment daily. She didn't trust him.

_KNOCK KNOCK_

The knocking was starting to sound more insistent, so John shook himself out of his thoughts and reluctantly answered the door.

"Good evening, John," Kathy greeted him as he stepped inside.

"Hi, Kathy," John said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice as Kathy looked around like she was an inspector.

"Where are the boys?" she inquired.

"Sam's taking a nap and Dean's in the room with him, looking at some picture books," he explained honestly and regretted it when Kathy frowned.

"This isn't healthy, John. Dean needs..."

"What?" John snapped. "He lost his mother, probably saw her mur... killed," he quickly corrected. She wouldn't believe him if he told her what he had really seen. "If Sam gives him some comfort, I say let it be. It's not hurting anyone."

"It's hurting Dean," Kathy insisted. "It's not normal. John, he screams if you take Sammy away from him. Dean's the one that's feeding Sammy, and changing him, and dressing him."

"I'm trying, damn it," John said running his hand through his hair in frustration. "It seems to give him comfort. If he needs it, let him."

"Why? So you can get drunk and not have to worry?" Kathy said letting her thoughts slip.

John's temper flared, and he tried hard to keep it in check. "That's not fair," he ground out angrily. "I'm doing the best I can."

"He needs help, John. More than you can give him. Now, I talked to a doctor, Roger Fairly. He's a child psychiatrist and one of the best in his field. All you have to do is call and he'll see Dean."

"No," John said firmly. "I know you're trying to help, but please just leave Dean to me. He'll be okay."

"Why can't you see that he's not okay?" Kathy said trying to keep her voice neutral. If she started yelling, John was going to throw her out.

"Stop it, okay. Just stop. Dean is my son. Let me deal with him."

"You're not dealing with him, John. You're not even dealing with yourself. What would Mary say?" Kathy said.

"Don't," John said coldly. "Look, I appreciate what you and Mike did for us, but I can handle my boys,"

"Don't shut me out, John. We care about you and Dean and Sammy. Social services could take them, John."

John just glared daggers at Kathy. "Are you threatening me?"

"I'll do what Mary would want to make sure her sons are looked after."

"Dean is _**my**_ son, Kathy, the same way Sam is. I'll take care of him. I think you should go," he said in a tone that implied don't come back.

"I'm not going away," Kathy insisted, reading John's meaning loud and clear. "Me and Mike, we love you and the boys. We want what's best for all of you." Kathy collected her purse and walked out the door.

John walked to the back room where Dean had been keeping a constant watch on his brother. The books Dean had been looking at earlier lay on the floor abandoned, and John found Dean in the playpen that John was using as a crib, sound asleep with his arms curled around his brother.

John reached down and picked Dean up. Dean whimpered a bit, and John was thankful that he didn't wake up. He sat in the rocking chair and cradled his son, lightly stroking his blond hair and softly rocking back and forth, much as he had done when Dean was little.

"We're two peas in a pod, aren't we, buddy? We need your mother," John said gently. "I promise, though, Dean, no matter what happens, they'll never take you from me, you or Sammy."

--

The next evening, there was a similar scene, except this time it was Mike Gunther who was standing by the sink when his phone rang. He didn't want to answer it because he knew who it was and what it was about.

"Hello," he said tentatively.

_**"HOW COULD YOU!" **_avoice screamed back at him.

"John," Mike said in an attempt to calm the angry man.

"Don't you John me. How could you?" John ground out, his voice turning cold and deadly.

"John…"

He wasn't even given a chance to speak. "You called social services," John said in disbelief. "They just left. They said that they're going to be checking up on things. They said..." John couldn't finish.

"I don't want you to lose the boys, John, but things have to change..."

"Damn right," John said forcibly. "I'll be at work tomorrow, but don't call me again. You and Kathy aren't welcome anymore." With that, John hung up.

Mike put the phone back in its cradle. "That went well," he said sarcastically.

"We had to do it, Mike," Kathy said, her voice full of regret. "He needs help. This will wake him up."

"I just hope we haven't made things worse," Mike said sadly.

--

John spent the next month trying to keep up a normal appearance, but it was tough, and his attendance was sporadic. He had to take the boys with him as he didn't trust anyone with them, and Dean still wouldn't let him get far from his sight. Things were extremely tense at the garage, as John would only speak to his partner when absolutely necessary.

At night, John spent most of his time reading through old books, trying to find out what killed his wife. He wasn't crazy. He knew what he had seen that night. He also went through the yellow pages, looking for anyone that could help him. His eyes landed on the first one listed, a psychic by the name of Missouri Moseley.

It was here that John made another mistake with his eldest son. When he and Missouri went to the old house, John had brought the boys with him. When John tried to take Dean into the house, he had started screaming. Nothing John did would calm him down, so he apologized to Missouri and put Dean back in the car and drove back to their apartment.

As Winchester luck would have it, the social worker stopped by that evening. John really missed Donna, the social worker they'd dealt with when they had adopted Dean, but she had retired. The new social worker had found Dean even more withdrawn, so in order to appease her, John agreed to call Dr. Fairly and set up an appointment.

--

John was growing more bitter and resentful by the day. The stupid doctor seemed to be making Dean worse. For the first session, John had promised Dean that he wouldn't get a shot, that the doctor just wanted to talk. The doctor had told John that he wanted a full physical check up on Dean. John felt the guy had suspected he was abusing his son, and he really had to stop himself from decking the man.

The physical exam revealed no strange bruises, but the doctor had decided that Dean was dehydrated, and wanted to give him an IV. He felt so guilty when Dean's big green eyes pierced him to his very core with betrayal as they stuck the IV needle in the back of his hand.

The doctor also prescribed some meds to help with Dean's anxiety, a sleeping pill, and some tranquilizers if he had an episode.

Worst of all, though, was that John was told that Dean needed to find a way back to them for his own reason. He was to discourage Dean's dependence on his brother. He could see him, but John was to take back his primary care, no matter how much Dean protested, and to let Dean do for himself, whatever he did before the fire. He had to start sleeping in his own room, and if John found him in Sam's play pen he was to remove him. He wasn't supposed to let Dean be in the room when Sam was sleeping, he was to try and find an activity that kept Dean occupied.

Dean didn't like it one bit. He may not have been speaking, but he had no problem in letting his feelings be known. The only word he would speak was his brother's name. He would call out for his brother when someone took Sammy from him.

During this time, John continued to meet with Missouri and he was beginning to learn more and more about what was really out there in the dark. He came to the conclusion that he was going hunt down and kill whatever had murdered his wife.

Things were not going well on the home front, however. Dean wasn't making much progress and Dr. Fairly was starting to make noise about admitting Dean for long term treatment. John knew that would be the worst thing they could do, and he didn't miss the ever increasing amount of frowns from the social worker.

Then he got a call from someone named Caleb Graham. If John wanted to find out more about the supernatural, he was willing to train him. He had even arranged for a place to stay and a job for John.

John thought long and hard through the night. He knew that he was one step away from social services taking the boys. He wasn't going to let them do that, though. He had to protect his sons. So that night, John packed up some toys, clothes, and Sammy's play pen into the Impala, and took off towards a new life.

--

John drove all day, barely stopping. He drove as if he were being chased. He finally pulled up into the salvage yard he had been directed to by Caleb, thankful that something finally seemed to be going his way. He was a mechanic by trade and this would allow him to work and learn, and still be around his boys. He just hoped that this Bobby was willing to put up with Dean's problems.

He got out of the car and greeted Bobby and then went to get the boys. When he went to unsnap Sam's buckles, he had to push Dean's hands away. He told Dean to work on his own straps and steeled himself against the immediate surge of guilt that he felt. Before the fire, Dean had insisted on getting himself out of the car. So John walked away and let Dean join them in his own time. It didn't take long for Dean to reach his father's side.

He was immediately shocked at the reaction that Dean had to Bobby. He didn't run away, but actually responded to Bobby's handshake.

Any reservations John had about coming here were quickly disappearing.

--

That night, after a relatively peaceful dinner, the first John had experienced in a long time, he accepted Bobby's invitation to join him on the porch for a cold beer.

They left the door open so they could keep an ear out for the boys. They were both quiet at first, John was thinking about everything that had just happened. The way Bobby had gotten Dean to eat his dinner, and threw away those stupid pills John hated forcing down his son's throat. He hadn't seen Dean make a connection like that with anyone in a long time.

Even though Dean was only four, John felt that if Dean trusted Bobby, he had to be a good guy. Dean didn't trust easily, even before the fire. The hunter-to-be decided that if his son had given this man his trust, then so would he. For the first time since Mary had died, John felt himself pouring out his story and he felt hope grow that maybe, just maybe, his little boy could find his way back to them.

--

"Thanks Bobby," John said sincerely to the man sitting next to him after he had finished telling his story.

"It's got to be rough," Bobby said compassionately.

"I just don't know what to do for Dean anymore," he surprised himself by admitting.

"I noticed that he seems comforted by Sammy. Maybe you should encourage that," Bobby offered.

John smiled sadly. "That's my fault. The night of the fire, I put Sam in Dean's arms and told him to run while I..." He paused. "My so-called friends called CPS on me, and they told me to take Dean to a shrink. He said to try and separate them, let Dean find his way back on his own terms. Ever since I listened to that quack, things have been getting worse." John hesitated and then continued. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have listened to him, but just letting him be wasn't working either. There's so much danger, more than I ever realized. I can't let anything happen to my boys."

"You won't," Bobby said firmly. _I won't let it either._

"I know I can't let Dean take care of Sammy all the time. He's just a kid, he shouldn't have to, but it's the only thing that seems to give him some peace. I mean, ever since Mary..." he stopped abruptly.

Bobby felt his heart going out to all three Winchesters, even the baby. They had a long, tough road ahead of them. He suddenly felt a little guilty that he was just doing this to get to know his son.

"How'd you get started in all this?" John asked wanting to change the subject.

The question startled Bobby, and before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "I lost my son. He'd be about Dean's age." _Damn it, Singer, why'd the hell you say that?_

John saw Bobby drop his gaze to the ground and his whole body grew visibly tense. He cursed himself and not sure what to say, he awkwardly offered his condolences, and vowed never to ask another hunter why. It was none of his damn business.

"It's getting late," John said trying to break the uncomfortable silence. I'm going to go check on the boys. I'm sure Dean's in with Sam," John said.

"I don't want to over step my bounds here, John, but is there really any harm in leaving him there?" Bobby inquired.

John thought about that for a moment. "We are in a strange location. Maybe I'll leave him there for the night," John said softly. He wasn't sure if that was the right thing to do, but he didn't want to make things worse. He really wished that Mary was here. She'd always had that magic touch.

"How about this? We'll let him stay there tonight, and tomorrow, we'll move the bed from the bedroom into the den and set it up next to the play pen. Maybe we can convince Dean to sleep next to you and Sammy, rather than right in with his brother."

"Sort of wean him gradually," John said. It sounded reasonable. "It's definitely worth a shot."

"Maybe I could take Dean with me a few mornings, out to the salvage yard. Maybe get him used to being apart from you and Sam, without being too far away," Bobby suggested almost shyly.

That idea appealed to John as well. Dean's daycare teacher had used a similar technique, and while it had been slow going, Dean had made progress.

Bobby had to hide his enthusiasm when John agreed to his proposal. He really felt bad for the Winchester family, but this was giving him a chance to spend time with his son and really get to know him.

--

**PRESENT DAY.**

John stepped up to the sink and started to wash his hands in preparation for putting on the sterile covering, so he could go in to visit with his son. He could see Bobby talking with Cindy and he hoped that everything was okay, and was glad it was finally his turn.

Dean was still asleep, so Bobby reluctantly got up and left the room when he saw John getting ready.

"Hey Bobby," John called to the elder mechanic as Bobby removed his gown and threw it in a specially marked container.

"What?" Bobby said warily. He really hoped that John wasn't going to start anything. He couldn't have been more surprised at what happened next, though.

"Thanks," John replied.

"What for?" Bobby asked in confusion.

"I've had a lot of time to think these last couple of weeks, and I know we've had our differences, but no matter what, you've always been their for us, all of us, not just Dean."

"John…" Bobby started.

John interrupted him. "This isn't easy for me to say," he stammered.

"Are you trying to apologize?" Bobby said with a glint in his eye.

"You were never one to make things easy, were you?"

"Nope," Bobby replied with a grin. "Although I will, just this one time. Apology accepted. Let's put the past behind us. Dean has a long fight ahead of him and he needs you."

"Us, Bobby," John said genuinely. "He need all of us. You know we made a pretty good team once."

"We did," Bobby confirmed. "And we will again. We'll get him through this, Johnny. I don't care what it takes," he finished with conviction.

--

When John entered Dean's room, he felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He owed so much to Bobby. After all, it was Bobby's ideas that had brought Dean out of his shell.

John greeted Cindy and sat in a chair next to Dean's bed. A big grin lit up his face as he recalled one special day.

--

_**PAST**_

The Winchesters had been staying at Bobby's for about six weeks. That particular day, Dean had spent four hours down in the salvage yard with Bobby, without his father or his brother. They'd all gone out to McDonalds to celebrate in the evening.

They'd all been exhausted when they came home, and John had carefully tucked his eldest son, who was half asleep, in his bed, lightly brushing his forehead with his lips, and said gently to his boy, "Have a good sleep, little buddy."

Then John heard a sound he hadn't heard in months. Dean had whispered in a voice so low that John almost missed it. "Night daddy. I love you."

It was the sweetest thing John had ever heard.

--

_**PRESENT**_

John reached out and lightly stroked Dean's short spikes. "I love you too, baby," he said softly to his sleeping son.

TBC

Please remember to read and review. Even one makes my day.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

Once again a big thank you goes out to Soar for the beta job, and suggestions to improve this chapter. Equal thanks also go out to JuliaAurelia and Sinead-Conlan for their feedback.

Thanks, also, to all those who are reading, or reading and reviewing.

--

John was perched on a chair next to Dean's bed, taking his turn sitting with his son and watching him sleep.

"Hey John, can I ask you to move for just a minute?" Cindy asked him.

"Sure," John said as he moved aside and watched as the nurse hung another IV bag on the pole, next to the almost empty bag of fluids. "What's that for?" he asked curiously.

"Dean's going to be getting chemotherapy from both pills and IVs," Cindy explained. "This is probably going to make him sick. Would it be best if we woke him?" She asked.

"Yeah," John confirmed reluctantly. Dean looked so peaceful for a change, and John hated to disturb him. "He was never one that liked waking up to surprises." John reached out and gave Dean a little shake. "Dean. Hey kiddo, nap time is over."

Dean gave a small groan as he cracked his eyes open, revealing a sliver of green. He tried to ignore the nausea that was still plaguing him. If he felt the bad from only one dose, what would he be feeling like after the second? He wasn't all that sure he wanted to find out.

Knowing that it was going to happen whether he liked it or not, he opened his eyes fully and attempted to sit up.

_Bad idea._ His stomach started churning even harder, and he felt like he was going to puke all over his pretty, pink gown. _That would be an improvement, he thought dryly. _

"Dean," he heard his father say with a heavy dose of concern in his voice.

"I'm okay," he said as he pulled his legs up to his chest and dropped his head on his knees, taking deep breaths.

"How are you doing, Dean?" Cindy asked.

"Peachy," he ground out and finally lifted his head, seeking out his father's voice.

He located the voice, but he didn't find the comforting presence he was looking for. All he saw was a man and a woman dressed from head to toe in sterile coverings. He felt his chest start to grow tight as his gaze shifted over to the closed, sliding glass door of the isolation unit, the closed door of the small room beyond.

He closed his eyes again and tried to get himself under control. _Dad's with you, just like he promised. _The young hunter was grateful that he wasn't hooked up to a heart monitor, because it would have shown just how fast his heart was beating. To make matters even worse, the waves of nausea seemed to increase along with his heartbeat. _Calm the hell down, Dean, he berated himself. Do you want them sedating your ass again? Could you be any more of baby? You're 27 years old, not 7._

John could see the warning signs. He saw Dean slam his eyes shut. He knew that Dean's reaction was not from the medicine, that he was on the verge of a panic attack, and that Dean had to be beating himself up over his reaction. Sam's words suddenly flashed into his brain.

_Dad, why don't you tell him? Maybe it can help him face his fear if he knows what he's afraid of._

Maybe Sam was right. _Never let him know that, John thought dryly. Dean wasn't going to be in this room for 6 hours, though_. _He was looking at 6 weeks_. _I can have this debate with myself later, John though. Right now, I have more important things to deal with._

"Hey Dean, it's okay," John said soothingly to his distraught son as he reached out and rubbed comforting circles on his back. "You're okay," he repeated over and over. He didn't want Dean to have a full fledged panic attack. He was worried about Dean pulling out his catheter. As a hunter, injuries were common and Dean had had his share of IVs, and pulled out most of them for various reasons, but none of them had ever been attached to a major vein near his heart.

"Dean, tell me one of your favourite spots?" Cindy suddenly spoke up.

"Um, Bobby's salvage yard. Workin' on old classics with dad and Bobby," Dean mumbled. _Why was this important now?_

"What I want you to do is close your eyes and picture yourself there. Can you do that for me?" Cindy instructed calmly.

Dean tried to do as he had been asked. He imagined himself in the wide, open yard, with a 1956 Thunderbird before him.

He had been 15 and it had turned out to be one of the strangest summers of Dean's life, and for someone that hunted down ghosts and demons, that was saying a lot.

Sam had been eleven and had received his first hunting injury. He had cracked two ribs when he'd been thrown into a gravestone by a disgruntled spirit. Knowing that Sam had to take it easy, the small family had found themselves at Bobby's salvage yard. Dean really liked it there because of the garage, of course, but it always seemed to provide a safe haven for them, no matter what, and ever since Dean had met Bobby, he had been comfortable around him. He found himself able to tell him things he wouldn't even tell his dad or Sammy.

Sam loved Bobby's house because of his book collection. He was in heaven having to lay in bed all day, and having access to Bobby's library. In addition to books on urban legends, Bobby had all the classics as well.

Bobby was also grateful for the Winchesters' presence that summer, because he was going through a rough time himself. He'd lost his foster mother to cancer a few months before, and his foster father had died of a heart attack shortly afterward.

Trying to keep his mind occupied, Bobby had acquired a junked, rusted out shell of a 1956 Thunderbird. He hated seeing the classic like that and he had made up his mind to restore it.

So while Sam was content to spend his days reading, John, Bobby and Dean would gather in the salvage yard and work on restoring the classic to its former glory.

Those days had been the closest to normal that Dean had ever experienced. They would argue every morning about what to play on the radio. Bobby liked country, but Dean and his father preferred classic rock. There were good natured arguments over everything from the car repairs to superheroes, to urban legends.

The two older men asked for Dean's opinions and listened when he made good arguments, and he truly felt like a grown up. His father even let him have his first beer on the day they finished work on the car.

Dean had mixed emotions to their work being finished. He was elated that it had turned out so well, and Bobby was able to sell the car for a nice profit. He'd been surprised when Bobby had handed him one third of the money, and his dad had said that he could do what he wanted with it.

He wanted to buy a second hand car. He'd be legally able to drive soon and it would make things easier.

Sadness also accompanied his pride and happiness though, because the summer was ending. Sam was fully healed and he knew that his father wanted to get back on the road, not to mention that school would be starting soon.

Then after a visit from Caleb, John had told them he was doing an undercover job and they would spend the next couple of months staying with Bobby.

Bobby, knowing that Dean would be extremely worried about his father, offered him one of his junkers to fix up to keep him distracted. He had said that the repairs would be up to Dean, so Dean decided that he could use his money for parts and detailing.

Things were fine for about a week. Dean would go to the salvage yard with Bobby and John would do some research, using this time to bond with Sam, like he had with Dean over the car.

Something had happened during that time though, but to this day, Dean still didn't know what. That day started out like any other. He had been helping Bobby get the old engine out when his dad had stormed in, looking like he was ready to kill someone. He had yelled at Dean to go pack his and Sam's things. They were leaving. Dean had tried to ask what had happened, but his father wouldn't answer. Dean, knowing that his father was about an inch from exploding, beat a tactical retreat. They had left within the hour and it had been a long time after that before they saw Bobby again.

He had always wondered what had happed, but anytime he asked, his father had just informed him that it was a need to know event, and he didn't need to know. Maybe he could convince his father to tell him now. _Maybe hell will freeze over. _

Cindy saw a small smile appear on Dean's lips. "Tell me what you're thinking about," she requested.

Dean rattled off a bunch of stats about Thunderbirds and the different repairs they had made to the car. Dean could still recall the pride he'd felt when they'd finished that last coat of wax "It was nowhere near as nice as my baby, though," Dean clarified.

"The one in the parking lot?"

"Yeah. Dad gave her to me as a high school graduation present," Dean said.

"You up for getting out of bed and showing it to me?" Cindy wanted to know.

"I think so," Dean replied. He slowly lowered his legs and turned so they were dangling off the bed. He silently begged his churning stomach to stay put. He stood up, keeping his hands on the bed, to make sure he was steady. When he was sure he wasn't going to keel over, he reached one hand to the IV pole for support and the other went behind him, to make sure his gown was closed in the back so no one was getting a free show. He was grateful when his father handed him a robe. He put it on and Cindy helped him with the IV stand and they all made their way over to the window. Dean pointed out his baby, and Cindy made all the appropriate appreciative remarks.

"She's the bes..." Dean trailed off.

"Dean, you okay?" John asked, a little worried.

Dean realized that Cindy had effectively staved off his panic attack. He was still a little tense, but the crippling fear he had felt a little while ago seemed to have gone away. He wasn't naive enough to think he had conquered it for good, but he was okay for now, and that was all that mattered.

"I'm fine," he said sincerely.

John realized the same thing Dean had and he smiled gratefully at the nurse.

"I hate to be a killjoy," Cindy said. "But you're due for your next dose of meds, and we need to get your chemo IV started."

"One condition," Dean stated firmly. "Can I get a new gown?"

"Sure," Cindy agreed quickly. "I have to stay, though, until I see how you react to the chemo. I'll get you a new one when it's done. Deal?"

"I guess," Dean said a little grumpily. He didn't think he was ever getting out of the stupid pink gown. Killing Sam was starting to sound like a really good option.

John assisted him back to bed and Cindy started IV. She hooked the med bag into one of his catheter ports and adjusted the flow. "This may sting a little," she warned.

Dean couldn't stop the hiss that escaped him as the chemicals hit his bloodstream.

"You okay?" John asked for what felt like the millionth time.

"Yeah," Dean said through gritted teeth. "Just came as a surprise, that's all."

Cindy also replaced the empty bag of fluids. Dean didn't miss the fact that she had also put a clean emesis basin next to him.

If Dean thought the pills worked fast, it was nothing compared to the IV stuff. It seemed to the young hunter that he had no sooner settled into bed when the nausea struck. He barely had time to grab the basin before his stomach emptied its contents. Because Dean really didn't have anything in his stomach, it was mostly just dry heaves.

"I'm fine," he ground out before his father could ask the inevitable question.

"Here Dean," Cindy said bringing him a glass of ice chips. "Swish these around your mouth but don't swallow."

Dean did as requested. He really hated this. This was just day one. What was in store for him next?

"I want to hear more about this car, so I can go home and tell my husband all about it," Cindy requested.

John listened to Dean tell his story. He had an entirely different memory of that summer. After that summer, things were never the same.

--

_**1994**_

John was taking his turn doing the dishes when he heard the knock at the door. He heard Bobby answer and greet Caleb.

John had always liked and admired Caleb. He had been the one to teach John and Bobby everything they knew.

Although he was a capable hunter, Bobby quickly found out that he preferred the research aspect more than the actual field work, which was perfect because John hated research and was impatient. The two had made a great team, and they quickly found their reputation growing within the small hunting community, which is why Caleb had come to them now.

There had been a series of strange deaths. Young women burned to death while they lay sleeping. It was suspected to be a satanic cult by the authorities due to the sacrificial style of the murders. The problem was that anyone that asked too many questions ended up having a suspiciously fatal accident. Caleb was actually looking for John to join him and another hunter, named Joshua, in going undercover. It would be a dangerous job, and one that would take couple of months to solve.

"I'm not sure," John said to the two other men later that evening. The boys were sleeping and they were in Bobby's kitchen discussing the case. He wanted to look into this because the way the women had died was similar to how Mary had died, it was hitting close to home, but he wasn't sure he wanted to leave his sons for that long.

"You know the boys are welcome to stay here," Bobby offered immediately. He really hoped John went for it. This was the longest he had spent with his son in a while, and he didn't want him to leave.

"Thanks Bobby," John said sincerely. He really did want to take this hunt and Bobby was one of the few people he trusted with his sons. He knew they would be safe here.

It would be about a week before they would be ready to leave, and John told Sam and Dean the next morning. Dean was worried as this would be the most dangerous job his father had taken yet. He knew that his father had to do it though. People were dying. Families were being destroyed, like his had been.

"Your dad will be okay, Dean," Bobby promised. "Besides, I have a surprise for you."

Dean followed Bobby out into the yard and was surprised when Bobby gave him a car of his own. He said it didn't work at the moment, but he'd help Dean to fix it up.

While Bobby was teaching Dean, John spent some time with Sam. Yes, he hated research, but he hadn't spent a lot of time with his youngest recently, and he missed him. Somehow, it didn't seem so bad when he was doing it with his son, and Sam was happy to spend time with his father.

That was how it happened. It was a typical day, just like any other. Dean and Bobby were working on the car, and Sam was reading a book.

"Bobby's got a book on signs of the occult," Sam told his father. "We could look through that to see if it matches the symbols left at the crime scenes," he suggested.

"Good idea. Where's the book?"

"It's on the top shelf in the den. Do you want me to get it?"

"I got it, kiddo," John said, amazed that anyone could find a specific book in the messy pile.

He got up and went into the den and quickly spotted the book right where Sam had said it would be. John got a footstool and went to get it. Books were jammed tightly on the shelf and when John pulled, several fell on the floor.

One of them looked to be a photo album. John didn't intend to be nosy, but he couldn't help it. When it had fallen, it had opened, landing on a page that showed a picture of John's wife and son in front of Dean's old day care.

He suddenly felt as if all the blood in his veins had been replaced with ice water. He shivered, not from cold, but from a slow rage that was building up in him. He grabbed the album off the floor and flipped back to the beginning.

John saw various photos of his eldest son. Most John recognized, they had been taken when he'd first met Bobby. What was causing the knots in his stomach though, was that there was several pictures taken from before Mary had been killed. There were several of Dean playing in the front yard, Mary and Dean at the park and even some of him and Dean in front of his old garage.

This man, who John had trusted, was spying on them. The offer of a job and a spot to train as a hunter, not objecting to any of Dean's problems when everybody else had, constantly offering him a place to stay, and the way he seemed to hover over Dean, flashed through John's mind. He wondered what Bobby wanted. Several reasons why passed through John's mind, and none of them were doing anything to help his mood.

Cursing himself, John took off for the garage.

--

"When you're having a problem with the transmission, the first thing you want to check is..."

_**SLAM!**_

Both Bobby and Dean jumped when the door sprang open so hard it almost came off its hinges. Looking over, they could both tell immediately that John was pissed.

"Johnny..." Bobby started, but John cut him off.

"Dean, go pack. We're leaving. Half an hour max, if it's not packed by then, it's staying here," John said, trying very hard not to yell at his son. Dean had done nothing wrong.

"But dad," Dean said in confusion.

"Now Dean. It's an order."

The words had their desired effect. "Yes sir," Dean said and immediately headed for the door. He was not looking forward to telling Sammy. His brother had been looking forward to staying here.

"John, what the hell is going on?" Bobby wanted to know. He was just as confused as Dean.

"Maybe you can tell me," John said and threw the photo album at the mechanic.

Bobby felt his heart stop when he picked the object up and realized exactly what it was. He had been meaning to put it in a more secure location, but he just kept forgetting.

"I can explain. It's not what you think," Bobby said desperately. _Why was this happening now?_

"I find an album full of pictures of Dean, so tell me Bobby, what am I supposed to think?" John's voice was quiet. He wasn't yelling, yet, but there was no mistaking the thinly veiled anger in the voice.

"You and the boys are like family..." Bobby tried. He really didn't want to admit the truth.

"DON"T!" John growled as his fists involuntarily curled up by his side. "That wouldn't explain why most of the pictures are of you and Dean, and what about the ones from when Mary was alive. Why are you stalking my boy?" The last of John's temper finally gave way and he quickly closed the gap and grabbed Bobby by the front of his shirt and he exploded. _**"IF I FIND OUT THAT YOU HURT HIM IN ANY WAY..."**_

"I could never hurt Dean, I..."

"You love him," John accused. "That's what you all say isn't it."

What John had just accused him of struck Bobby. "It's not what you think." Bobby shot back.

"Count of three. If you don't give me some explanation..." John trailed off, the threat clear.

Bobby was starting to fear for his life. He honestly didn't blame John, he'd have thought the same thing, and he knew that the only way he was getting out of this situation alive was to admit the truth. "I didn't hurt Dean, John. I'm his biological father."

John felt like he had been sucker punched. Of all the possible scenarios that had gone through his mind, he had never considered that one. All the air flew out of him and he let go of Bobby in his stupor. "What did you say?"

"Dean's my son, John," Bobby said again.

"He's _**my**_ son," John said defensively.

"I know he's adopted."

"No, his father's name is Tony. Mary said so," John said as if it was gospel. He didn't want to believe what Bobby was telling him.

"My full name is Anthony Robert Singer. Dean's birth mother was named Amanda Newton. We met in college." Bobby took a deep breath and told John the whole story. "Dean's biological mother died in a car accident. I guess she had been trying to find Dean and asked a nurse to pass the message on to me. I hired Caleb to track him down. I first saw you in front of Dean's day care. I followed you to that restaurant and heard Dean say that he needed surgery. It was then that I knew I couldn't take him from you."

The words ''take him from you' pierced whatever fog John had been in. Dean's biological family had wanted him back. His temper instantly flared and once again, Bobby found himself back in between John's fists.

_**"TAKE HIM? SCREW YOU,"**_ he yelled. "You stay away from Dean. He's mine."

"He's not a possession, John," Bobby's own temper was now getting the better of him. He tried to push John off him, but it would have been easier to move a tank.

"I know that, you bastard. He's been my son since the day I first held him. Do you think I ever cared that we adopted him?"

"No," Bobby confirmed. "Yes, I'll admit I had every intention of finding him and bringing him back with me. Then I saw you with him in that restaurant. I could tell you and your wife would have done anything for him. I couldn't take that from him."

"That first night on your porch, I asked you why you hunted. You said you had lost your son. You were talking about Dean, weren't you?" John asked.

"Yes," Bobby admitted. He wasn't surprised by what happened next.

The next thing Bobby knew, he was sprawled on the ground. He wouldn't be surprised if his jaw wasn't broken from the way it was aching.

"You used me, you son of a bitch. I never want to see you again. Don't try to call us or contact us," John said, his tone a mixture of both hurt and anger.

Bobby knew that he had deserved that punch. He _**had**_ used John's tragedy, but all three Winchesters had moved into his heart. It was no longer just about Dean. Bobby couldn't watch the only family he had left walk out that door.

"Don't leave, John, please," Bobby said desperately. "I care about all you."

John just glared at the man before him. "Save it." He turned and started back for the door.

"If you leave, I'll call CPS. Sometimes you treat that boy like a servant, and I'm sure they'd be very happy to know about your extra curricular activities," Bobby said to John's retreating back. He knew he wasn't helping the situation, but he was getting desperate.

John stopped and spun around to face Bobby. For the first time he looked afraid. Would Bobby really do that? "You can't," he said, his voice soft and deadly. He was trying to keep the fear out of his tone.

"Don't leave. I just want to be a part of Dean's life. I don't want to take him from you, but I won't let you take him from me," Bobby shot back, hoping that his threat sounded convincing. He would never really have done that.

"If you do that, it's not going to be me you're punishing," John said to Bobby.

"I don't care what I have to do. I won't lose my son," Bobby said.

_**"YOU SELFISH SON OF A BITCH,"**_ John yelled. "You do realize that if you call CPS, there's going to be no guarantee that they'll give him to you. Your history isn't exactly squeaky clean."

"No, but I have a home and a job. I can give that boy things you never could," Bobby shot back, escalating the situation. John's response was something Bobby never could have predicted.

"Can you give him Sam?"

Whatever Bobby had been about to say died on his lips.

"Yeah, if you take custody of Dean, you have no legal right to Sam. How do you think Dean's going to react when you tell him he can't see his brother?"

There was nothing Bobby could say to that. Bobby knew that Dean lived for his little brother There were too many unknowns with CPS, but there was a strong possibility that the brothers could end up being separated. If that happened, Dean would be devastated and so would Sam, for that matter. If he called CPS, the boys would be the ones that ended up being hurt the most. John had him over a barrel and Bobby knew it.

John sneered. "Don't try to follow us, Bobby."

"John, please," Bobby begged.

John almost felt sorry for him. He knew how he would feel if anything happened to his boys. "I can't deal with this. We'll be gone shortly."

With that, Bobby watched as John walked out the door, taking his son with him.

--

They had been on the road for a day, both boys sensing just how on edge their father was, and in reaction, they were quiet. John spent most of the drive thinking about everything that had just happened. His anger had disappeared, because after all, he would have done the same thing if he was in Bobby's position. His fear, however, was only growing. He didn't trust Bobby not to make a move.

He and the boys drove to Blue Earth, to Pastor Jim's. He was the only person John could trust now. He had also done something that he had never done before. He had called Caleb and asked to be replaced on the hunt. He couldn't leave his sons now.

He had no contact with Bobby for almost a year. He had a feeling that the elder hunter was keeping tabs on him though. This was confirmed when John had taken on a particularly nasty demon. The demon had almost got the upper hand, but Bobby had shown up out of nowhere and saved his life. After that, they had sporadic contact, but their relationship had never been what it was.

_**PRESENT**_

_Until now, John thought. _He just wished that it hadn't taken Dean getting sick for them to negotiate a truce.

He looked down at his son. Dean's eyes were at half mast as he stared at something on the TV.

"Hey, Dean?" John said.

"Yeah," Dean mumbled.

"I was talking to Bobby. He's got a '69 Road Runner that's in really bad shape. When you get out of here, Bobby's invited us to stay with him so we can work on it."

Dean turned to his father, smiling as memories of that summer once again flashed through his mind.

"Sounds good," he said.

"I agree," John replied and he meant it.

TBC

Please remember to feed the muse on the way out with a review. It only takes one to keep her happy and stick around.


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: A big thank you to my beta reader Soar, and I would also like to thank Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for their comments and feedback on the the chapter.

Chapter 20

Disclaimer: Still don't own them.

_Demons, you exorcised them. Spirits, you salted and burned. Poltergeists could be gotten rid of by purification rituals. Rawheads could be electrocuted, and wendigos__torched. Simple, easy as pie, a piece of cake. _

Dean just wished there was something that straight forward for getting through chemotherapy. It had been several days since he had started taking the medication, and he couldn't remember ever getting his butt whipped so thoroughly by anything.

They were giving him the medicine in both pill and IV form, and the young hunter would have suspected that there were drugs in his food. That is, if he could get food to stay down. It seemed that nothing did these days, not even water. His doctor hadn't been kidding when he said that chemo was tough.

In addition to the nausea and vomiting, he had been hit hard by fatigue. During the first week, he had insisted on getting out of bed and using the treadmill in his room, or sitting at the table with whoever was in his room at the time.

Cindy spent a great deal of time with him. Dean had taught her to play poker, and she had taught him how to play Gin. He even managed to finish Sam's book, To Kill a Mockingbird. It was one of Cindy's favourite books and he and Sam had had some good discussions about it. He also really appreciated the Ipod Bobby had gotten him.

Then there were days when he didn't have the energy to get his head off the pillow. Most of those days were spent sleeping. They seemed to far outweigh the number of his good days lately, and now he only got out of bed if someone made him, or he needed to make a mad dash for the bathroom.

Most of the time he was too sick to care where he was. He'd had a few mild bouts of panic with his claustrophobia, but nothing too bad. Cindy had promised him that the door to his isolation room and the door to the anteroom were not actually locked, so he wasn't technically stuck in the room. That and Cindy's imaging technique had helped him a lot. Usually, if he closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself somewhere else, it wasn't long before he fell asleep.

His father, Sammy, and Bobby were a source of comfort to him as well. One of them was constantly with him, so Dean didn't feel quite so isolated. But as much as he wanted his family with him, they were also driving him crazy. He tried to keep his temper in check at their constant nagging to eat or get some rest. He just didn't know how to make them understand that eating was a waste of time when he was just going to puke it back up. Maybe he should just tell them that the reason he hated eating these days was that it was starting to hurt when he swallowed.

One good thing about being stuck in bed was that it gave him lots of time to plot revenge on his brother. If he thought the pink gown had been bad, it was nothing compared to what Sam had in store for him. Almost every day when he woke up, he had some colorful new gown on. There was a green one with yellow dump trucks, a white one with blue and purple stars, a blue one with flowers, and his personal favourite, a yellow one with white airplanes. Today he was back in pink, but even worse, there were red hearts on it.

He just wondered where Sam had managed to find the damn things. Cindy was no help. Whenever he asked for a new one, she'd just smile and agree. Dean had asked for a plain, blue one and she had promised that as soon as she could find one, she'd bring it to him. He'd have to ask her if she had anything with clowns on it. Sam was going to be admitted soon.

_Don't think about that, Dean. He instructed himself. _ Sam was going to go through with this whether he liked it or not, and he didn't like it one bit.

"Hey, Dean," Sam said greeting his brother when he saw the sliver of green. "How are you..."

"Knock it off," Dean snapped as he tried to keep the nausea at bay.

Sam watched helplessly as Dean suddenly sat up straight and grabbed the emesis basin off the table.

He hated seeing Dean like this. He wasn't used to his big brother looking so weak. As much as he hated the circumstances though, he was grateful that for once, he could finally come through for his big brother, just like Dean had done so many times for him.

"I'm good, just give me a minute," Dean said weakly.

"Take all the time you need," Sam said softly. He waited until Dean was done, then he grabbed the basin and put it in the sealed container that was in the room.

"Let me get Cindy," Sam said, reaching for the call button as he watched Dean run his fingers through his hair in frustration. If he had trouble watching it, he couldn't imagine what it must be like for Dean to go through it.

"She'll be in soon. I'm fine," Dean insisted.

If there was just one thing Sam was wishing, it was that Dean would drop the tough guy routine. He wasn't fooling anyone. "I want..." Sam started and then stopped abruptly.

"What?" Dean asked in an annoyed tone.

"Um," Sam stammered. He wasn't sure what to say. He just pointed to Dean's hand.

Dean looked down and saw a big clump of hair in between his fingers. Then he spotted several more chunks on his pillow.

"I'll get Cindy," Sam offered again, reaching for the call button.

"Don't!" Dean said forcibly. "We knew it was going to happen. There's nothing she can do." Dean looked at his brother. His eyes drawn to the cap on Sam's head and what was, or actually wasn't underneath it. "Hey, Sammy, um, I want to say... that is... uh, thanks," he mumbled.

Sam knew that Dean was talking about him shaving his own head. "You're welcome," he said simply. "Besides, I was waiting for it to fall out so I could give you these."

"What?" Dean asked curiously.

"Dad actually picked them out. I hope you like them," Sam said. He went to the dresser and removed several squares of black fabric. "I was going to wrap them, but I wasn't allowed. They needed to be sterilized before they could be brought in."

Dean accepted the gift from Sam and found himself staring at seven black bandanas. Each one had a different band logo on it. There was Metallica, Guns-n-Roses, Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Motorhead, Black Sabbath and Nazareth.

"Awesome," Dean said. He picked up the Led Zeppelin one and tied it around his head.

"Much better than these paper ones," Sam pointed out. "Although maybe I should have gotten them in..."

"Don't even say it, Sammy," Dean cut him off. "Don't forget your time is coming."

"You might have a hard time with that one. I have Cindy wrapped around my little finger," Sam boasted.

"I won't be in here forever," Dean promised.

"Bring it on," Sam challenged,

--

_**TWO WEEKS LATER**_

Sam was laying in his hospital bed staring at the IV needle in the back of his hand. It had been a long and tough road, but a sample of Dean's bone marrow had been taken and tested, and it was determined that his bone marrow had been suppressed enough for the transplant to proceed. Tomorrow Sam would be taken into the operating room for the doctor to harvest his bone marrow for his brother.

"Hey, Sammy," John greeted his youngest son as he stepped into the room.

Sam tore his gaze away from the fascinating site of the fluids dripping into him and he turned toward his father. "Hey, dad. Aren't you supposed to be with Dean?"

"Bobby's sitting with him."

"Dad," Sam said with a slight touch of exasperation in his tone. "Please tell me you didn't listen to him about staying with me. As much as he's protesting, you know he wants you there."

Dean had spent the last few days insisting that John stay with Sam while he was in the operating room. Sam didn't buy that for a second. His brother would never admit it, but Sam, Bobby, and even John knew exactly where Dean wanted his father to be on the day of his transplant.

"Relax, Sammy. I know that. Me and Bobby decided that I would stay with you tonight, sort of as a way to placate your brother. Tomorrow, when they do the actual transplant, I'm going to go back and stay with Dean. They're planning on sedating him tonight, anyway."

"Does he know that?" Sam asked.

"Dr. Scott told him while you were being admitted."

"I'm guessing that went well," Sam said sarcastically.

"Understatement. I had to admit though, it was good to see a bit of the old fiery Dean, even if he doesn't know what's good for him sometimes." John had the same concerns as Sam about seeing Dean so vulnerable.

"Why do they have to sedate him?" Sam asked worriedly. "He's okay, isn't he?"

"He's doing as well as he can be. It's just that Dr. Scott doesn't want him awake all night thinking of things that could go wrong."

"With my part of the transplant, not his," Sam guessed.

"Exactly," John agreed. "He's worried about you. Dr. Scott figured it would be better if he slept through your part of it."

"How long did you have that argument with him?" Sam asked.

"He came round to our way of thinking," John answered.

Sam saw through that response in about a second. "You ordered him, didn't you?" Sam asked in an accusing tone.

John didn't even try to deny it, there would be no point. "Damn it, Sam. I didn't want to, but I didn't know what else to do. He wouldn't agree to it."

"Maybe we should let him make his own decisions. He's not a kid anymore."

"He's my kid," John insisted. "He needs to rest tonight. You both have a big day tomorrow. Can we please not fight about this? We're going to have a bigger battle on our hands soon enough."

"What's going on, dad?" Sam asked in a worried tone. He had a sudden urge to rip out his IV and go to his brother's side.

"The stubborn idiot," John said with no real anger in his tone. "He didn't tell anyone that he was having trouble eating because he developed sores in his mouth. Dr. Scott discovered them during his check up today. There's no telling how long he's been hiding them. They're apparently a side effect of the chemo. Between that and the nausea, he's not eating much and he's losing a lot of weight, way more than they would like, and Dr. Scott mentioned putting in a PEG tube."

"A what?"

"PEG tube. It stands for precurse...no, precute...oh hell, I don't remember what the doctor said. It's just a small tube that's inserted into Dean's abdomen so they can feed him through it."

"He'll never go for it," Sam said stating the obvious.

"We haven't told Dean about it yet," John admitted. "Dr. Scott asked me for the best way to bring up the subject with him."

"Let me guess, it's your plan to wait until Dean's out of it and let Bobby use Dean's power of attorney. Dad, that's not a good idea," Sam warned.

"You said it yourself, Sammy, he won't agree with it. I don't know what else to do. Your brother can't be reasoned with sometimes," John said trying to find a reason to justify his actions.

"You're underestimating him. He didn't put up too much fuss over the catheter," Sam pointed out. "What did Dr. Scott say?"

"He said it can wait a couple of days, but if Dean can't keep food down, they have to do it," John said with a sigh. "Right now, you have to admit that he's not up to discussing anything. Let's just get through the next few days and see what happens."

"Dad, remember that hunt Dean was on when we were younger. You didn't give him all the information then, and he ended up getting hurt. This is his treatment. As long as he's capable, he should have a say in it."

Suddenly, the memory flashed into John's brain. He had almost forgotten all about it.

--

1992

John Winchester sat at his desk with several newspapers in his hand. He was going through the obituaries trying to find a hunt, but evil seemed to be taking a holiday because there was nothing.

_**RING RING**_

Grateful for the break, John pushed his papers aside and rose to go answer the phone.

"Hello," John greeted the caller.

"Hey Johnny, old man, how's it going," the caller returned the greeting enthusiastically.

"Jefferson, what's up?"

"I got a hunt for you," he answered.

"What is it?" John asked, perking up at the prospect of a hunt.

"Children's rec center has all the signs of a spirit. Kids getting hurt, strange accidents, stuff like that."

"I'm hearing a but in there," John said.

"I need Dean. I can't hang around there without a kid. I'd probably get arrested," Jefferson explained.

"I don't know," John said hesitantly. Dean had accompanied John on a couple of salt and burns, but he'd never been bait before.

"I won't let Dean get hurt, John, I promise. I don't think the spirit would go after him anyway."

"Why is that?" John inquired. There was something else Jefferson wasn't telling him.

"Well, research indicates that the spirit is that of Martin MacIssac. He was a 15 year old boy who was taking lessons at the rec center. There was a contest and he and his partner were favored to win. The day before the production, he falls on stairs. Injures his knee so badly he can't do it anymore. He claimed that he was pushed but there's no proof. He was bitter and became depressed that the sport he was planning a career in was over. He killed himself a year later. Hung himself in the gym where he took his lessons. A new rec centre was built three years ago and whenever the school puts a production on, the male that's favoured to win always seems to meet with an accident. I just need someone on the inside, so he can report any strange goings on."

"Jefferson," John said growing nervous. "Just what kind of lessons are you talking about?"

"It won't be for very long, Johhny. Just a few lessons and we should be able to see if this boy is our ghost," he said hedging.

"Jefferson!" John growled in a warning tone.

"Ballroom dancing," Jefferson said with a sigh and held the phone away from his ear waiting for the explosion. John didn't disappoint.

_**"ARE YOU INSANE!"**_

"Good thing I have two ears," Jefferson mumbled.

"Dean will never agree," John stated firmly.

"Kids are getting hurt," Jefferson said going to for jugular. He knew John couldn't say no.

"Dean won't get hurt?" John asked.

"The spirit won't even target him unless he's favoured to win. No offense to your boy, but I just don't see him as a professional ballroom dancer," Jefferson confirmed.

"He has been begging me to let him actively participate in a hunt. This one sounds like it shouldn't be too dangerous for him. Okay, sign him up under the name Webster and we'll be there in a couple of days."

--

Dean could hardly contain his excitement as he sat next to his father in the Impala. When his father had come to him and told him they needed him to go undercover on a hunt, he'd been ecstatic. He'd been asking for a while.

He was under strict instructions to keep his eyes and ears open, and report anything strange to his father. Dean was determined not to screw this up. He wanted to prove to his father that he could be as good a hunter as his dad was.

He just wished he knew more details, but he was used to his father's need to know operating system, so he didn't even question his father when John dropped him off in front of the rec center, handed him a duffle that he said contained everything Dean needed, and told him to report to room nine.

Dean walked into the building and quickly located where he was supposed to be. Upon entering, he took a look around, turned around and walked right back out again. He had to be in the wrong place.

A cold feeling washed over him when he saw the number nine clearly marked on the door above. What the hell was going on? Maybe he was hallucinating. He rubbed his eyes, pinched himself to make sure he was awake, and walked back into the gym.

"Hello. Can I help you?" one of the adults asked, coming over to him.

"I'm supposed to be in room nine," Dean said, praying to himself that he was dyslexic and had somehow misread the number on the door.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Dean Webster," he said giving the alias his father had told him to use.

"Hello," she said in a friendly tone. "I'm Madame Arnaude. I teach beginner ballroom dancing. Welcome to class, dear. We'll make a dancer out of you yet. "

"Not in this life time," Dean mumbled to himself. He looked at the door again and considered bolting.

_This is a big responsibility, son. _Dean suddenly heard his father's voice in his head. _"If you're going to be a hunter, you have to do things you may not like. I have to know that I can count on you to get the job done, no matter what. _

_You can count on me, sir. _

Dean knew he couldn't let his father down. He was his father's soldier after all. "Where do I get changed?" he asked.

--

Dean headed toward the locker room feeling really self conscious. Everyone around him had been wearing dress pants and pressed, button down shirts, and shiny, black shoes. He really stood out in his ripped jeans, faded t-shirt, and scuffed sneakers.

He felt a little better when he opened his duffle bag and found a similar outfit, but you could clearly tell the clothes were second hand. The pants had seen better days and the shirt was wrinkled.

He stalled for as long as he could, but he eventually had to leave the safety of the locker room. He sucked it up and joined the other beginners.

Madame Arnaude started the lesson with a basic explanation of what they would be learning and Dean tried hard to pay attention. Then, as if the day couldn't get any worse, he heard his name being called to join the teacher at the front of the class.

Dean wanted to refuse, but he couldn't, so he did as he was told. The next thing he knew, he found himself being the teacher's guinea pig, as she made him demonstrate the basic positions for the fox trot, the dance they would be learning first.

Dean did his best to keep his eye out and pay attention to what the teacher was telling him. He at least thought he might get to dance with one of the girls, but there was an uneven number and his humiliation was complete when he ended up with the teacher as his partner.

He was suddenly changing his mind about being a hunter. Nothing could be worth this.

After what felt like an eternity, the class finally ended. Dean was about to make a bolt for the locker room when he heard a voice that stopped him dead.

"Looking good there, champ," his father said.

Dean just turned and glared at his dad. If looks could kill, John would have dropped dead on the spot.

"Go get changed," John instructed. Dean stormed off, blushing as red as his shirt. He was so done with this.

"Mr. Webster," the teacher said eyeing John and coming up to him. "I'm Francine Arnaude. I just wanted to say that I think Dean's a natural."

"Thank you," John said proudly. He was guessing she said that to all the parents to sucker them in.

"I hope to see Dean next week. I'm looking forward to working with him."

"He'll be here," John confirmed.

--

"Dad."

John looked up from the information Jefferson had given him. He wanted to confirm for himself that Dean was not in the direct line of fire. "What is it, Dean?" John asked, although he had a feeling that he knew what this was about.

Dean dropped into the chair next to his father. "I don't want to hunt," he stated firmly. The dancing sucked and when Sammy had found out what he was up to, his little brother had teased him non-stop.

"Dean," John said.

Just by the way his father said his name, Dean could tell his that dad was gearing up for a lecture.

"Hunting is not easy. I told you that."

"You could have told me about the dancing. I hate it," Dean complained.

"You wouldn't have done it," John pointed out truthfully.

"It should have been my choice," Dean pouted.

"Son, when it comes to saving lives, we don't always get to pick. We go where the hunt takes us. You told me I could count on you to do what it takes. Were you lying?" John accused, knowing that this was going to end the conversation.

"NN...No, Sir," Dean stammered. He would never let his father down.

"Good. Now on Wednesday, you have your next class. You'll be there and you will give it your all. That's an order."

"Yes sir."

--

Then John got news of an upcoming competition. He was informed that Dean's beginner class was taking part, and John made plans to attend. He wanted to be on hand if the spirit tried anything, and he was also curious to see his son. Dean had refused to show his father what he had learned in class.

John had never told Dean the full details of the hunt, that the male dancer of the couple favoured to win was the target of the spirit. He didn't feel that Dean needed to know that because he never dreamed that Dean would ever have the potential to win.

What John had forgotten was that when he gave Dean an order, it was followed to the very best of his son's ability. So Dean had thrown himself into the lessons with everything he had. Not doing his best was not an option. Lives depended on him and more importantly, his father was counting on him.

Unbeknownst to John, Dean had made significant progress, and his teacher felt that Dean was very capable of winning the competition. So John was very surprised when he received a call from Dean's teacher on the day of the dress rehearsal, saying that Dean had fallen down the stairs and was at the hospital.

Cursing himself, John raced to the hospital and found his son waiting for him. He was relieved to find out that Dean wasn't hurt seriously. He'd sprained his ankle badly, and he would need crutches for a couple of weeks, but he'd be as good as new, the doctor assured him.

"I'm sorry, dad," Dean apologized when he saw his father enter his cubicle.

"For what?" John asked in a confused tone.

"I let you down. I'm so sorry."

"Dean, what happened?" John asked gently.

"I was practicing with Amanda and after we finished, I was walking down the stage steps, I thought I felt someone push me. I must have tripped though. My ankles all busted up and now I can't compete tomorrow and I messed up the hu... hunt," Dean said trying to keep his voice from wavering. _Don't cry, you wuss. Dean berated himself. _The first time his father gave him a significant roll in the hunt and he had screwed it up. _ Typical, he thought in disgust. Don't know why I'm surprised. _

"You didn't screw up, Dean. I did," John admitted.

Dean looked at his father in disbelief.

"I didn't give you all the facts. You were pushed, Dean by the spirit. Your teacher told me that she felt you were going to win and the spirit always goes after the favourite. I should have told you that, Dean, then this might have been avoided. You did good, son, and I'm proud of you. I know how much you hated this. But it looks like Jefferson's theory is correct."

"Thanks, dad," Dean said sincerely.

"Come on, let's go home. Do you want to continue your lessons? I hear you're pretty good," he teased lightly.

"Hell no," Dean said as he limped after his father. "Although I heard Sammy say he might like ballet."

John laughed and put his arm around Dean's shoulders and hugged him tight.

--

_**Present**_

Early the next morning, John and Bobby traded placed and John took his place at Dean's side in his son's isolation room.

Thinking back over that hunt, John realized that Sam was right. This was Dean's treatment and he should have all the facts.

John gathered all the information Dr. Scott had given him on the PEG tube and turned toward his son.

"Hey Dean?"

Dean turned his eyes away from the TV and stared at his father.

"There's something we need to talk about."

TBC.


	21. Chapter 21

Thanks everyone for your patience. Real life has just been crazy lately.

Thanks to Soar for betaing. Thanks also JuliaAurelia, and Sinead-Conlan for their feedback and encourgament.

I also would like to thank Mummyluvr for allowing me to reference her story.

--

Chapter 21

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

"No!" Dean said with as much force as he could muster in response to his father's suggestion, which wasn't as much as he would like.

"Come on, Dean," John encouraged. "It's a very simple procedure. 20 minutes. They can do it while Sam's in the OR."

John cursed himself when Dean stiffened. He hadn't meant to remind his eldest about his brother's upcoming surgery. "No," Dean repeated.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want it," was the only reason Dean would give. He hated every bit of this whole process. The chemo had taken such a toll on him that these days, he didn't have the energy to lift his head off the pillow. He hated everyone seeing him as weak, and now he couldn't even feed himself like a normal person. _No, no way in hell._

"Dean," John said trying to keep his voice gentle. He was fighting every urge he had to make this an order. "Dr. Scott wouldn't recommend this if he didn't think it was necessary."

"No," Dean said, digging his heels in, sounding like a stubborn child.

A noise distracted both father and son, and they looked up. They could see Cindy in the anteroom, donning the protective coverings, getting ready to come in. John was glad because he really liked her, and he needed an ally right now to get Dean to see reason.

"Good morning, handsomes," Cindy greeted them as she came in.

"Good morning," John replied.

"Why does everybody say good morning," was Dean's answer. "I have yet to find one good thing about them."

"Someone's in a good mood this morning I see," Cindy said with a wink toward John. "Are you nervous about today?" Cindy asked.

"No," Dean lied. "Is Sammy okay?"

"He's fine. He slept through the night. They're just starting to prep him now."

"When will we know he's done?"

"The procedure usually takes about an hour to two hours. Then they'll bring the bone marrow to you, and it will drip into your body over a four to five hour period."

"When will I be able to see Sammy?" That was the only news Dean was interested in.

"He'll sleep most of today and be up and around tomorrow, or maybe late this evening," Cindy explained.

"Dean," John said trying to change the subject. He was worried about both his boys. "About the PEG tube…"

Dean glared at his father. "We settled this," he replied, his tone indicating that he didn't want to discuss it further.

"Are you going to eat your breakfast?" John answered back, guilt creeping up when Dean turned green around the gills.

"No," he said softly. _Why wouldn't everyone just leave him alone? He wasn't hungry. _

"Dean," Cindy said gently. "It's not that bad. 20 minutes and it's done."

"He said that," Dean said indicating his father. "I don't care. I don't want it."

"It will help build your strength back up. The quicker that happens, the faster you can get out of here."

That intrigued Dean. "Really?" he asked doubtfully.

"Yup. The stronger you are, the more you'll be able to fight."

"How long?" Dean wanted to know.

"I'm not sure," she said honestly. "I won't lie to you, it won't just be for a couple days. I'd say at least a month, and then we'll go from there."

"I..." Dean started and stopped. "I don't want... I don't know."

"No hospital food," John said, feeling a glimmer of hope that his stubborn son might agree to this.

"That would be a plus," Dean agreed. His family wasn't allowed to bring him in anything. He had no idea how they sterilized his food and he really didn't want to know. The only thing he was sure of is that they also cleansed it of all taste.

"I can get Dr. Scott," Cindy said. "It'll be done before you know it."

Dean was all set to protest, to tell them what they could do with their tubes, but for reasons he didn't understand, he couldn't. He looked toward his father. "You'll stay?"

John couldn't help but think his son sounded 4, not like the 27 year old man he was. "Yeah, son. I'm not going anywhere."

"My dad can stay?" he said looking to Cindy for confirmation.

"Yup. We can just give you a local anaesthetic, and it'll be done before you know it."

"Okay," Dean sighed heavily. "Let's get this over with."

------

**SAM'S ROOM. **

"Good morning, Sam."

The youngest Winchester looked over and saw Bobby sitting next to his bed. "Morning Bobby," Sam said, stretching his long limbs the best he could in the small hospital bed. "How's Dean?"

"He's sleeping like a baby. That daddy of yours worked a miracle this morning."

"He got Dean to agree to the feeding tube," Sam guessed. "How'd he do that?" Sam inquired when Bobby confirmed his guess. "He didn't make it an order, did he?"

"No," Bobby confirmed. "Cindy pointed out that regaining his strength faster would help him get out sooner."

"The magic words," Sam replied.

"Yup, then Johnny reminded him that he wouldn't have to eat hospital food."

"I never thought Dean would agree," Sam admitted.

"Neither did I," Bobby agreed. "They gave him some medication to relax him for the procedure, and it knocked him right out. It went fine."

"How is he really, Bobby?" Sam asked.

"Nervous as hell, not that he'd ever admit it, but I think he's looking forward to getting it over with."

"Me too," Sam admitted. "I just hope it takes. I mean..."

"Lose that train of thought right now, Sam," Bobby admonished firmly.

"I can't lose him, Bobby. I can't. It would be my..."

"Samuel," Bobby cut him off sharply. "I don't care if you're about to head into surgery. If the words 'it would be my fault' even enter your thoughts again, I'm beating them out of you. No matter the outcome, Sammy, you can't blame yourself. The anaemia would have killed him for sure. You're giving him a chance. Do you think Dean would blame you if it didn't work?"

"No," Sam said confidently.

"Hey, Sam. Are you ready?" An orderly said stepping into the room with a gurney.

"Yup. Look after my brother, Bobby, until I can see him. Okay?"

"You got it, kiddo," Bobby said and he reached over and grabbed Sam's hand. "I just want you to know..." he hesitated for a moment. "Sammy, even though I don't share biology with you like I do with Dean, I always thought of you as my son, the same way I do your brother."

"I know you do," Sam confirmed.

"Look after my boy," Bobby instructed the orderly.

-----

Bobby stayed with Sam until they reached the surgical ward. Sam had had surgery before, but he'd never been conscious when he'd been brought into the OR.

"Sam, we need you to slide over onto the table," the doctor instructed.

Sam lay down on the table and tried to relax, but he was really nervous.

"Hey, doc, when will I be able to go see my brother?" he asked trying to distract himself.

"First thing tomorrow or later tonight, depending on how you're feeling," Dr. Young said.

"Sam," Dr. Anderson said. "I'm going to put a mask over your face. I want you to take deep breaths, and count backwards from 10 for me. Bet you won't even make it to 8."

Sam did as he was told. He could feel himself getting sleepy. He was glad he could do this for Dean, the big brother who was always there for him, no matter what he did. Just before he drifted off to sleep, a memory popped into Sam's mind.

_**Past**_

It was tough always being the new kid. Every school had its own set of rules that kids followed on who or what was acceptable, and who or what was not.

Sam tried hard to figure them out, but it wasn't easy. Just when he felt like he was getting a handle on it, they moved. The problem was that he liked making friends, unlike his older brother who couldn't care less what people thought of him. Sam wished he could be like that. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much when the kids rejected him.

The problem was that when the kids picked on him, it often made its way around the school, and once big brother got wind of the fact that little brother was being picked on, it ended as fast as it had started. Sure, kids stopped trying to beat him up after Dean intervened, but it created a whole new set of problems. Instead of being picked on, he was ignored like he had the plague.

It made going to school tough. The thing was, Sam loved school. He loved his classes and learning, and he got good grades. He wanted to fit in and be like the other kids in his class.

When they had arrived in Atwater, Minnesota, Sam really wasn't expecting things to be all that different.

Things hadn't stated out well when school officials had informed them that Dean was going to have to repeat his junior year, due to an incident that had taken place at their last school.

The last place the Winchesters had moved from was a very small town. There was one school that went from kindergarten to grade 12. It was the kind of place where everyone knew each other, and the Winchester brothers stuck out like a sore thumb. The school quarterback, Kyle Mullins, had been in danger of failing several classes which would have made him ineligible to play. His solution had been to intimidate a poor freshman into doing his homework for him. His mistake had been picking on the new kid.

When Sam had refused to do Kyle's homework, the guy had given him a black eye as incentive. His big brother had taken offence. He stopped Kyle in the hall for a chat, and the jock took a swing at the young hunter. Dean blocked by grabbing his arm, and the guy had tried to pull it back and ended up dislocating his shoulder. Of course, no one believed Dean's version of the events and he ended up getting expelled.

When Dean had been kicked out, there was no other school to go to. There was one in the next town 20 miles away, but John wasn't willing to drive Dean there and pick him up every day, so John decided to home school his eldest.

While Sam was taking history, French, science, and English, Dean was getting an education in urban myths, legends, ancient Latin exorcisms, rock salt, and devil's traps.

When they arrived in their new town, the school didn't want to enroll Dean, but John insisted. They agreed to take him on a probationary basis only. He was expected to behave, not start trouble, not miss time and keep his grades up.

When the school officials found out that Dean had been home schooled, they made him take placement tests. A secret John would take to the grave with him was that the tests had revealed that Dean was working at a 10th grade level. John fought, and got them to agree to Dean repeating his junior year, if he would work with a tutor.

John knew that Dean's confidence had been shaken, so he had been determined to make it up to him. It had actually been his eldest son that had discovered the lead for their current hunt. Perfectly healthy people were going on rampages and then dropping dead. Dean had suspected a demon. Wanting to build Dean's self-esteem back up, John had told him that he could take the lead on the hunt. It would be up to him to do all the research. John even told his eldest that if it wasn't a high level demon, he'd even let him perform the exorcism.

John knew it had been worth it when Dean's face lit up like a kid at Christmas. He didn't want to lose his chance, so he behaved himself at school, and worked hard with his tutor, and with his dad at home to make sure he had the exorcism down pat.

Sam was glad that no one picked on him the first day. His second day went better. He'd been assigned to work on a history project with a boy named Chad MacIntyre. Sam had heard about him. He was new to the school, but unlike Sam, he was a star athlete. He was on the basketball team and Sam had thought he'd been like any other jock, but he was the complete opposite. Chad had several good ideas about their project, he was friendly, and down to earth, and Sam, found himself sitting at a table with the basketball team by the end of the week.

-----

Over the next month, things went smoothly. Dean had stayed out of trouble and Sam found himself really fitting in, for once.

"Hey Sam," Chad said coming up to his locker, with Mark Baker and Ian Felter, two other basketball team members.

"Hey," Sam said half heartedly.

"Something wrong?" Chad inquired.

"Just tired," Sam lied. The problem was that Dean had discovered that it was lower level demon that was responsible for the deaths. John had declared that Dean could perform the exorcism, since it would be fairly simple as far as exorcisms go. The hunt was that weekend, and Sam was afraid that once it was over, they'd be moving on and he didn't want to leave. He liked having friends.

"Make sure you rest up. Tommy's having a big party," Chad said naming one of the guys Sam was friendly with. Tommy Wilson was captain of the basketball team. To get invited to his party meant you were one of the cool kids. "We both got invites."

Sam really hoped he could convince his father to let him go. "When is it?" he asked.

"This Saturday."

Sam felt his good mood at being invited fade. The hunt was this weekend. His father had told him that they were close enough to Blue Earth that he could be dropped off at Pastor Jim's. Sam adored the Pastor, but when you were 13, a party with your friends was the place you wanted to be. He knew his dad would never let him stay home alone. He might have a shot if Dean was staying to watch him, but Dean was going on the hunt. He suddenly felt mad at his father for treating him like a baby. Dean had been allowed to stay home alone when he was Sam's age. Why couldn't he?

"It sounds great," Sam said trying to sound excited. He was already trying to come up with an argument that would let him attend the party. "Thanks for the invitation."

"Actually," Mark said slyly. "You don't have an invitation yet. You have to pass the initiation."

"What?" Sam asked in disbelief.

"Initiation. All new kids have to go through one. Chad did and now it's your turn," Robbie explained. "It's really simple. You up for it?"

"Um, yeah, I guess so," Sam stammered. _Hell no, his brain was telling him. _

"It's really simple, you have to humiliate someone," Ian explained.

"How?" Sam asked, even though he didn't want to know.

"By revealing their biggest secret to the whole school," Mark said as if it was the easiest thing in the world.

"Who?" Sam asked. Again, he really didn't want to know because instinct was telling him he wouldn't like it. _Don't say it, please don't say it. _

"Like I said, real easy. Everyone knows that older brothers are a pain in the ass. So we'll make this super easy and allow you get revenge by revealing your brother's biggest secret."

_No he couldn't. He wouldn't. Dean meant the world to him. _

"See ya, Winchester," Ian said as he and Mark walked down the hall. "We'll do it after lunch."

"You better do it, Sam," Chad cautioned his friend after the other two boys left. "Mark and Ian can make your life miserable here if you chicken out."

"I don't know," Sam said hesitantly. He really didn't want to do this. "Dean's my brother. He..." Sam paused. How did he explain to anyone just what Dean meant to him? That his big brother literally protected him from monsters, that he was the one Sam went to for advice or a scraped knee. The big brother that helped him with homework, even if it meant his own didn't get done. The person who Sam felt was more of a father to him than his own dad. He wouldn't. _**He couldn't. **_

"Come on, Sam. You don't want to seem like a wimp, do you? Everyone here will think you are. I'll see you after class. Try and come up with something juicy."

He walked off before Sam could ask him who he had humiliated, and what secret he had revealed. Sam continued down the hall toward his class room, his mind continuing to go a mile a minute. Being a social outcast was tough. He'd gone through it and he really didn't want to do it again, but hurting Dean… The cost was way too high.

The ironic thing was that Dean was the guy he turned to when he needed advice on how to handle situations just like this one. Maybe he could ask his brother. He could ditch Chad, Mark and Ian, and meet Dean, and they could work out a plan.

------

Dean exited his English class, for once in a good mood. They had gotten their tests back and he had passed. He couldn't wait to get home and show his dad.

"How'd you do?" he heard a female voice greet him. "You passed didn't you?"

"Hi Patti," Dean returned the greeting with a grin when he saw his tutor, Patti Larson standing next to him. "Yup, B-. Thanks for helping me."

Patti melted at that smile. Dean was so good looking. Most guys that looked like Dean wouldn't give her a second glance, most were conceited jerks, but Dean was different. Patti had discovered that underneath the cocky smile, Dean was a totally different person. She could tell that he was devoted to family, especially his younger brother, who he talked a blue streak about. "It was no problem. I can help you with the book report if you want. Maybe we could meet at my place."

"I can't," Dean replied.

"Oh, it's okay," Patti said trying to keep disappointment out of her face.

"No, it's just that I have to look after my little brother until my father gets home from work, so if you don't mind working at my place instead, I could use your help."

Patti smiled. "Sure. That would be great."

"Maybe afterwards we could catch a movie or something," Dean asked tentatively. He usually didn't have a problem talking to girls, but he really liked Patti. She helped him, but didn't treat him like he was stupid, like a lot of other tutors and resource teachers did.

Patti stared at Dean in disbelief. Had she just been asked out on a date? "Um, sure," she agreed trying not to sound too eager.

-----

Sam had finished eating and was trying to avoid his friends until he could talk to his brother. The problem was that Sam had trouble finding him, and by the time he did, lunch was almost over. This was the time when the halls were most crowded, so it was the ideal time to carry out the initiation. The problem was that Sam didn't want to do it. He finally spotted Dean 5 minutes before lunch ended.

"Dean," he called out to his brother.

"Hey Sam," Dean returned the greeting. "Patti, this is my brother Sam."

"Hi, Sam," Patti greeted. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Dean, can I talk to you about something?" Sam asked. He looked anxiously down the hall for Chad, Mark or Ian. Much to his chagrin, he saw them and the rest of the basketball team coming down the hallway.

Sam wished he had the powers of the invisible man right then. He still had no idea what to do. He wanted his friends to like him, but at what cost?

"Hey Sam, you ready?" Mark called to the youngest Winchester.

"Um...." he hesitated trying to stall for time.

"Sam, come on," Mark said with a hint of warning after Sam had remained silent for a good five minutes.

He could feel everyone's eyes on him. He felt panic rising up in him. He didn't know what to do. _Make something up, or tell them something Dean wouldn't care if everybody knew, he told himself. _

Sam looked to his big brother. Instead of finding inspiration like he normally did, he found guilt, and right now, it was threatening to eat him alive.

_Grades, he suddenly told himself. _Dean hated school and he wouldn't care if everyone knew he didn't get good grades. Everyone at school knew that Dean was supposed to be a senior. _Didn't they? _

"Um, hey, Patti, you're Dean's tutor right?" he said a little too loudly, causing others to look up. _That wasn't a secret. _

"Yeah," Patti confirmed.

"Must be tough," Sam said staring at his shoes. _He couldn't look at Dean, he couldn't. _

"It's not too bad, Dean's a qui..."

"You're really nice to give up your free time. Hey Dean, maybe if you'd had a tutor last year, you wouldn't have flunked, but I doubt it would have made much difference since you couldn't read until you were nine," Sam suddenly realized what he had said. That was something nobody knew about, something Sam swore he would never tell.

"Sam, what the hell?" Dean asked in a tone that was a mixture of hurt and confusion.

When he finally looked at his brother, Sam really wished he hadn't. Dean's face had turned red. He looked like he'd just had his heart ripped out of his chest, and Sam knew that he was embarrassed.

The guilt he had been feeling now threatened to crush him alive, and Sam wished it would. It didn't take long for the comments and teasing to start.

"Hey Winchester," one of the guys in the hallway said. "The elementary school is down the street."

_Don't let it bug you, Dean, he tried to tell himself. Those so-called friends of his probably put him up to it. __Just make a joke, don't let it bother you. _Dean turned to the guy who had just insulted him. "Really," he said in a false tone. "You'd better hurry then, I don't think you want to be late." With that, Dean turned and stalked off down the hall.

------

_**PRESENT- IN THE OR**_

"Hey Pete," Doug addressed Dr. Peter Young, the surgeon who was harvesting Sam's bone marrow. "Hold up a minute, would you."

"What's up?" Pete asked with concern.

"Blood pressures dropping." Doug fiddled with some dials.

"How's it looking?"

"Looks like its stabilizing. He may be having a reaction to the anaesthetic. You can go ahead, but let's make this quick okay?"

------

_**PAST**_

_**"IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO? IT'S GOING TO TAKE MORE THAN A FEW WORDS TO SEND ME BACK TO HELL! WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE, I'M COMING AFTER YOUR FAMILY, AND YOU CAN'T STOP ME!" **_

Sam had been lying on his bed, trying to study for his science test, but he was unable to concentrate. He cringed every time he heard his father yelling at his brother. He knew that his dad didn't mean the words he was saying, it was part of his training. Demons could read minds and would use the information against you. John was trying to teach Dean how to block it out.

After lunch, Sam had moved through the rest of the day on auto pilot. He didn't remember anything about his afternoon classes or even the drive home. The silence in the Impala had been oppressive. Dean wouldn't make eye contact or speak to him. Not that Sam blamed him. He just wished he knew how to apologize, but the words 'I'm sorry' sounded so hollow.

"Damn it, Dean, what the hell's up with you today?" Sam heard John growl at Dean. "The hunt's this weekend. You've got to have the Latin down pat. There's no room for errors or screw ups."

Not being able to stand it anymore, Sam put his book down, got off his bed and headed down the hall. His brother didn't deserve to get yelled at for something that was Sam's fault.

"I'm sorry, sir." Sam heard Dean mumble.

"Sorry's not going to cut it in the field, son. What's wrong Dean? You've been doing so well up until now."

"It's nothing. I'm sorry. I'll try harder," Dean said and picked up his book. He saw Sam standing in the doorway and when he looked back down at his book, the words just turned into a big blur.

"Um, dad," Sam said as he stepped into the kitchen.

"In a minute, Sammy," John said dismissively. "Dean, try verse three again. You're way off."

"No," Dean said stubbornly.

"Dean," John said warningly. "I want to know what's going on right now."

"I don't want to hunt," Dean said softly.

That wasn't what John had been expecting. "It's all you've been talking about. Talk to me son, please," John begged.

"It's just a lower level demon. You can do it with your eyes closed, dad, or Pastor Jim can help you," Dean said.

"You're just having an off day. You'll have the Latin down, kiddo. You just need a little more practice," John said confidently.

"No, I don't want to screw up," Dean responded. He shifted his gaze so that he was looking directly into Sam's eyes. "Apparently, I'm too stupid to do it." Dean got up so quickly that the chair he was sitting in overturned, and fell on the floor with a loud bang.

"Dean!" John called to his son's retreating back. "I never said that."

"I know," Dean replied. He walked out of kitchen and down the hall towards his bedroom. "_**You **_didn't." They heard the bedroom door slam.

"Sam, what the hell was that about?" John said sternly to his youngest son.

"Dad," Sam said and to his horror, he heard his voice waver.

"What's up, kiddo?" John asked, his tone going from angry to concerned.

"I... I…" Sam couldn't go on. The tears welling up in his eyes spilled over.

John opened his arms and Sam ran into them gratefully. John became scared when Sam started crying hard. His youngest hadn't cried in his arms since he was about eight. "Sammy, what's wrong? Did something happen at school?"

Sam couldn't answer right away. John just hugged Sam tighter, until he stopped sobbing. It confirmed John's thoughts that something was up with his boys when Dean failed to leave the bedroom at the sound of Sam's tears.

"Sammy, please talk to me," John begged. He hated when his sons were hurting.

"I didn't mean it. Dean hates me," Sam said, his tears starting afresh.

"It's okay, Sammy. I doubt Dean's capable of hating you. Now tell me what happened."

It took a combination of begging, ordering, pleading and threatening, but John finally managed to get the story out of Sam.

"I was just going to tell them about Dean flunking. I didn't mean to tell anyone about Dean not being able to read. It just slipped out," Sam confessed.

John reached up and ran his hand through Sam's too long curls. "Alright kiddo, we need to talk."

"You don't... don't hate me?" Sam sniffed.

"'Course not, kiddo," John said gently. "I never could."

"I wouldn't blame you. I hate me, and Dean does too," Sam said sadly.

"No, he doesn't. He's hurt and angry at you, but he doesn't hate you. Now, go wash your face and come back here. We need to have a talk."

"Yes sir," Sam said and did as he was told. He knew he deserved whatever punishment he got.

------

_**PRESENT- IN THE OR**_

Dr. Young had no sooner filled the last aspiration needle when he heard Dr. Anderson cry out.

"Damn it kid, don't do this!"

"Doug, what's wrong?" Pete asked with concern.

"BP just bottomed out. Damn it, start CPR, he's crashing," Doug said, just as Sam's heart monitor let out a high pitched whine.

-----

_**PAST**_

It didn't take too long for Sam to get back to the kitchen. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"I know you are, son, but it's not me you need to apologize to."

"I blew it," Sam said regretfully, his gaze turning down to the closed door of their bedroom.

"I won't deny that one," John agreed. "Sammy, I understand peer pressure, son. I can still feel the sting in my rear end from when my dad caught me smoking. The excuse 'I did it because my friends did it' didn't cut it with my father, and it won't work with me."

"I just wanted Chad, and Mark, and Ian to like me. It's hard going to school when no one likes you. I thought if I just mentioned something Dean didn't care about, it would work."

"The problem was, Sam, you didn't think. This is one of those situations where it was too easy for something to go wrong. I mean, how did you think the other kids were going to react when you told them Dean failed a grade?"

"They already knew," Sam offered.

"Everybody? The kids in your grade? The other grades?"

"I didn't think he'd mind," Sam said trying to explain his actions.

John sighed deeply. "If you truly believed that, Sammy, then you wouldn't be sitting here feeling like you did something wrong, would you?" John pointed out. He watched as Sam's eyes filled with tears again. "Hey, kiddo," he said gently. "I'm not trying to make you feel worse. Son, there are things you don't know about."

"What?" he asked curiously.

"I promised your brother, I wouldn't tell you, but I think you need to hear this. After your moth... After the fire," John corrected. "Dean had a lot of problems. I couldn't leave his side, he had nightmares, he wouldn't speak. Anyway, I was told that I had to put him in therapy and I did, or I risked losing you two. It made him worse. I was told to keep Dean away from you, to try and get him to be independent. Then we moved in with... Bobby."

Sam wished he'd known what had happened between his father and the man who had been Uncle Bobby to him. They'd left his salvage yard abruptly one day, and now every time John said his name, it sounded like a curse word.

"Dean started to get better and make progress, but it was slow. It wasn't because he wasn't smart, was because of issues from the fire and health reasons. Dean started school at six, not five. We moved frequently during those first couple of years. At one school, Dean was in a second grade class with 46 students in it. Dean just kind of slipped through the cracks. He didn't get the support he needed. Then when Dean was eight, you hadn't quite turned 4 yet, I almost got caught. The police caught me standing over the body of werewolf. It looked like I had just shot a man in cold blood. I had to disappear. Bobby's friend Caleb gave me the location of his cabin and we hid out there. It was in the middle of nowhere. There were no schools around. When the heat was finally off, I doctored Dean's records and put him in grade four where he was supposed to be. It was hard for him though. He struggled badly for the first few months. I finally got my act together and started to really work with him, like you were."

"I didn't know that," Sam said in surprise. "You knew I was helping Dean with his reading?"

"I'm your dad, kiddo, not much gets by me. The reason Dean couldn't read was because there was no one to really teach him. It was finding out that you were helping him that made me realize just what I had done to him. I'm not proud of it, but I did the best I could."

_No you didn't, immediately flashed through Sam's mind._ He didn't want to start a fight with his dad, so he let it go. "I blew it today," Sam repeated with regret.

"There is no denying what you did was wrong," John agreed.

"I'll tell everybody I lied," Sam said, trying to come up with some way to make things up to his brother.

"I blew it," Sam repeated with regret.

John took the seat next to Sam, and put his arm around his boy's shoulders. He was pleased when he felt Sam lean into him. "It's not the other kids so much, Sammy. Dean doesn't care what they think of him. There's only one person's opinion that matters."

"You," Sam guessed.

"No kiddo, you." That floored Sam and the surprised showed on his face. "Yeah kiddo, you."

"I don't think Dean's stupid. I know he's not," Sam said firmly.

"I'm not the one you have to convince," John said with a nod toward the boys' bedroom door. "Just give him a bit of time before you go in there, Sammy. If you go there now, Dean's going to think I ordered you. Just remember, actions speak so much louder than words."

Sam jumped up from his chair and hugged his father tight. "Thanks dad," he said. He knew what he was going to do.

"You're welcome," John said ruffling his hair. "Oh, and Sam..."

"Grounded," Sam replied.

"Yup, two weeks and extra chores."

"Yes, sir," Sam replied.

-----

_**PRESENT- IN THE OR**_

"Clear," Pete called as he prepared to shock Sam's heart back into rhythm.

"Nothing!" he said a moment later. "Charge to 360!"

------

_**PAST**_

Sam's admiration for his brother grew the next day when Dean didn't even ask his father to stay home. Sam avoided his so-called friends all day. He waited by Dean's locker at lunch time, so he could put his plan into effect.

It was a carbon copy of the scene the day before. Everyone was standing around getting their books. Sam could tell that Dean was trying hard to ignore everyone's comments, and trying to keep his temper in check.

"Hey, Sammy," Chad said as he, Ian and Mark approached him.

"It's Sam," he said in an irritated tone.

"Grumpy."

"Shut up!" Sam snapped.

"What's up with you? Have to stay up all night reading your brother's homework to him."

"No," Sam growled in his best imitation of John Winchester. He was pleased when Ian backed up a step. "Hey everyone," Sam announced to the hallway. "I have to tell you all something. About yesterday. If I told you all something about my brother, fair is fair. Dean, I want you to tell everyone something about me."

"Sam," Dean protested. "You don't have to do this."

"If you won't, I will. Here goes. I'm a big wimp. I don't stand up for what I believe in. What I should have said about my big brother is that he's the best one there is. Oh, and I sleep with a teddy bear."

The kids weren't really sure what to think about what Sam had said. Some laughed, most looked at Sam like he had three heads. The bell sounded and they headed toward their respective classes until Sam and Dean were the only ones left in the hall.

"You didn't have to do that," Dean protested.

"I wanted to," Sam said firmly. "This time I meant it, you're the best big brother ever."

"But..." Dean started.

"Dean, I'm sorry for what I said yesterday," Sam said. "I just... I mean Chad said..." Sam trailed off realizing how lame that sounded.

"Chad wouldn't be your friend?"

"Yeah. Do you think you can forgive me?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Eventually runt, but not right now," Dean said honestly.

"I understand. Guess we're both frigged at this school, huh."

"Yup," Dean agreed. "Want to cut this afternoon?" Dean asked.

"But dad will kill us. He'll ground us for sure," Sam stated.

"You're already grounded," Dean pointed out.

"But the hunt, it's this weekend," Sam protested.

"I'm not going," Dean said simply.

"But you can do it, Dean. I believe in you," Sam said sincerely.

"I know you do, Sam, but I think we should spend some time together this weekend. We have things we need to talk about, and you have some serious grovelling to do. Some things, Sammy, are more important than hunting, like family, it's everything."

"Let's go," Sam agreed. He knew he and Dean needed to talk, and that he was in for some serious torture that weekend, and he was looking forward to every second. Dean was right, family came first.

------

_**PRESENT- IN THE OR**_

"Clear," Dr. Young said as he brought the paddles to the young man's chest once more.

For a few tense seconds, the OR team stared at the monitor and they breathed a sigh of relief when the squealing flat line turned into a beep, hesitant at first, then growing steadier.

"Thank God," Dr. Anderson said.

Dr. Young turned to his nurse. "Get an EKG to make sure there was no damage to his heart and then send him to ICU for monitoring. I'm going to go talk to the family."

TBC

Chapter End Notes:

A/N: The secert that Sam reveals about Dean not knowing how to read until he was nine comes from Mummyluvr's story All I really Want. Thanks again for letting me use it.

Please read and review and let me know what you think.


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

A/N: The usual thanks go out to Soar for the awesome beta. Any left over mistakes are mine. Thanks, as always, to Sinead-Conlan and JuliaAurelia for all their encouragement and support.

Disclaimer: I still don't own them.

John sat next to the bed of his sleeping older son. He watched as Cindy prepared more equipment that they needed to hook Dean up to. John wondered just how much more room there was on Dean to put things. He watched as Cindy put leads on his chest, hooking them to a heart monitor and attached a blood pressure cuff to his arm.

"It's precautionary," Cindy explained when she saw John watching her. "There are potential complications from the transplant, so we need to monitor everything."

"He'll be okay, right?" John said looking to Cindy for confirmation.

Before Cindy could answer, they heard a knock on the glass window. They looked and saw Bobby standing there. John felt his blood run cold at Bobby's expression. _Oh God, if something happened to Sammy..._

"It's okay, John. Go ahead. I doubt Dean's waking any time soon, and if he does, you can come right back in.

"Thanks," John said gratefully.

John left the isolation unit and shed the protective clothing faster than he ever had before.

"Bobby, any news on Sammy?"

"Dr. Young will be here soon. He's the guy that took Sammy's bone marrow. He'll explain everything to you then."

"Bobby..." John growled, his unspoken threat made plain.

"There were some complications with Sammy's surgery," Bobby said tentatively. He stopped, waiting for John's explosion. It didn't come.

John just sat down heavily. He dropped his head into his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. How much more could he take? How much more could his sons take?

"What happened?" John said, not moving from his position. Did this mean there would be no transplant? There had to be, Dean had no immune system.

"I'm not sure. The doctors were thinking it was a reaction to the anaesthetic. His heart stopped."

John looked up at Bobby, eyes glistening, and Bobby felt his heart going out to his old friend. No one should ever have to experience this. "They got it beating again," he added quickly before John could think the worst. Bobby reached out and placed his hand on John's shoulder. "He's in ICU for monitoring. They got the bone marrow, though, John. Dean's still going to get his transplant."

John didn't reply. He just dropped his head back into his hands. "He'll be okay, Johnny," Bobby said with conviction. He couldn't let himself think otherwise.

------

It wasn't long before the doctor showed up, pretty much confirming everything Bobby had told John already. They said that Sam had an allergic reaction, that his heart stopped beating for 90 seconds, and that they shocked his heart twice to get it to start beating again. He was currently in the ICU for monitoring, but there didn't appear to be any damage to his heart. He was still unconscious, but they were hopeful that Sam would awaken soon.

John looked into the isolation room once again, at his sleeping son. How the hell was he going to tell that to Dean? Dean hadn't wanted Sam to do this in the first place, but they had all promised him that it was safe. If Dean found out that Sam had almost died, he'd refuse the transplant. If he did that, he'd be signing his own death warrant. The only conclusion was that Dean couldn't find out about what had happened.

"Bobby, you can't say anything to Dean. He can't know about this."

For once, Bobby agreed with John's need to know philosophy. "Do you want to go see Sam?" Bobby asked when he saw John's gaze shifting back and forth from the door of the anteroom, to the sliding glass door of the isolation unit.

"Yes," John admitted. He wanted to see with his own two eyes that Sam was okay. "But Dr. Young said they would be starting the transplant soon." He didn't want to leave Dean either. He had promised his son he'd be with him. He knew if Dean was aware of the situation with his brother, he'd tell his father to go be with Sam, but John knew that Dean wanted his father sitting next to him during the transplant. If there was any time he wanted to clone himself, he really wished it could be now.

"Stay with Dean, John," Bobby advised. "I'll go back and sit with Sammy. I promise I'll come give you an update if Sam so much as twitches."

"Thanks, Bobby," John said gratefully. "I mean it. I don't know how I'd be doing this by myself."

Bobby knew just how much it cost John to admit that. "If we have to go through this, I can't think of anyone else I'd rather do it with."

------

John quickly sterilized himself and re-entered Dean's room. He cautioned Cindy not to mention what had happened to Sam. She was not normally one to agree with keeping things from other people, but she had to admit, this was one time she felt it would be best. She had no doubt that if Dean found out about what had happened to his brother, he'd be out of bed, out the door and at Sam's bedside in about 10 seconds.

"Dr. Scott's here," Cindy said, tapping John on the shoulder and pointing to the door.

It wasn't long before he entered, carrying a large IV bag of what looked like red jello. "1500 cc's of bone marrow," Dr. Scott explained as he hung the bag on Dean's IV stand. He reached out and gave Dean a gentle shake. "It's time," he said reaching for Dean's catheter.

"How's Sammy?" Dean asked with a yawn as he came awake and looked around.

"He's sleeping," John interjected quickly, leaving things vague. He threw a glare at Dr. Scott that could only be interpreted as 'keep your mouth shut'.

"When can I see him?" Dean asked. He had a one track mind.

"When he wakes up," John said.

"I want..."

"James Dean, enough," John said firmly, trying to keep the grin off his face that usually threatened to break out at the use of Dean's full name. He never could figure out how Mary managed to do it.

"Fine, let's just get this over with. I want to see Sammy."

"Alright," Dr. Scott replied. "Cindy's going to be checking your vitals every 15 minutes, but what I need from you, Dean, is to tell us how you feel. I mean it. If anything doesn't feel right, no matter how small or how stupid it may seem, you need to tell us. This isn't the time to be a tough guy. Even something that may seem trivial, like an itch, may be signs of rejection. I need your word on that."

"Okay," Dean said sincerely. The heart monitor reflected his nervousness, as the beeps sped up when Dr. Scott turned the stopper on the IV and the bone marrow began to drip into his body. He wasn't sure what to expect when the first drops hit his blood stream. It didn't feel any different than a regular IV, though.

John knew that Dean was nervous, hell, he was too. He didn't know what to expect any more than his son did. Neither of them could take their eyes off the steady stream of drops.

"I know this is easier said than done," Dr. Scott replied. "But both of you need to try and relax. This is going to take at least 4 or 5 hours."

"Okay," John replied just for something to say, but he really couldn't take his eyes off the IV.

"John," Cindy said to get his attention. "Is it all right if I call you John?"

"Yeah," he said.

Cindy had a feeling he wasn't really listening, and that he would have agreed if she'd asked if she could call him Joanne. "John, as the proud papa, I bet you've got a million stories up there that would thoroughly embarrass your boy here, and I'd love to hear one."

"Hey!" Dean protested when John grinned. "Don't forget, I've got a ton about you, dad."

"You'll get your turn," Cindy said with a wink. "Go on," she encouraged John.

"Well, there was this time when Dean was about 15 and Sam was 11," John recalled. It seemed fitting because it was a time when he was extremely proud of both his sons, and a time when they both needed him. Just like now.

"Dad, please don't," Dean pleaded when John took a deep breath and began to speak.

-----

_**1993**_

John sat in the living room of their small house, watching TV.

It was about 5 months after John had found out the truth about who Bobby really was. It had done something not much else could. It had scared him. He was terrified that Bobby would make good on his threat to call social services, or somehow come after Dean.

So John did something he had rarely done since Mary died. He put being a father ahead of being a hunter. They settled into a small town. John got a job working construction and rented a small house so the boys would have a real home.

The house was nicer than anywhere they had ever stayed. There were even three small bedrooms that allowed the boys to have their own room for the first time ever. Neither one was sure how they felt about that at first, but after a while, they started to enjoy their privacy.

Both boys were flourishing. Sam had made several friends, who saw more of him than John did. He got glowing reports from Sam's teacher and because of his physical abilities in gym, he was encouraged to try out for the soccer team. Thinking it was good training for Sam, as he didn't want him getting soft, even if they weren't hunting, John agreed.

His youngest made the team as a striker. He was quick, and wouldn't back down from anyone, even those who were bigger than him. He employed the diversionary tactics John had taught him to avoid getting caught by something supernatural. This led Sam to be one of team's leading scorers.

John also encouraged Dean to try out for his soccer team. It was good exercise, after all. Dean had reluctantly agreed. Not wanting to be compared to his brother, Dean tried out for, and became the team's goalie. John hadn't thought much of that at first. After all, didn't the goalies just stand there? Then he saw Dean play.

His son approached the game like he would a hunt. He studied, never took his eyes off the opposing players, staring at them like they were things he wanted to salt and burn. Dean had always had a unique ability to recognize patterns where there didn't appear to be any. This skill allowed him to anticipate what kind of shot someone was going to take and in what direction. Like Sam, he was agile and quick and managed to stop almost every shot that came near him.

Dean's confidence increased when his classmates started congratulating him, and he often went out with the team to celebrate after a victory. An added bonus was that his grades were going up. He had to maintain a suitable GPA to be eligible to play sports.

Neither of his sons' teams had lost a game yet, and John always smiled to himself when he thought that if they were on the same team, they'd be unstoppable.

John was proud that he could say he had been to almost every game. He had only missed them a when he was away hunting, and he was determined to make the most of this down time. Of the eight games that each son had played, John had only missed one of each of his boys' games. Twice the boys had a game at the same time, so John went to one of Dean's and one of Sam's.

It was inevitable that his luck would run out, though. And it did, that very afternoon.

He heard the door slam shut.

"Dad, guess what?" they both called out in unison.

John got up and went into the front hall. His sons were standing there in their uniforms, flushed and sweating from practice.

"What? You both need a shower," John said teasing them.

"Funny," Dean grumbled. "We came first. We're going to the championship."

"So are we," Sam added.

"Good job, boys," John said with pride.

"You're coming to the game, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah dad?" Sam wanted to know.

"I wouldn't miss it," John grinned. "Maybe we could go out for supper to celebrate."

"Pizza," Dean stated at the same time Sam blurted out "Chinese."

"As your father and the driver of the car, my vote's the only one that matters," John said wanting to avoid an argument. "I say we go to the steak house. You boys need your energy. Now, go shower and change."

"I'm first," Dean called, taking off for the bathroom.

"No way," Sam shouted after him. "You use all the hot water."

"Big brother rules, Sammy," Dean said grabbing his brother by the back of his shirt, pushing him out of the way, and ducking into the bathroom just ahead of Sammy.

"You suck, Dean," Sam shouted to door that just slammed in his face. He hated being the youngest sometimes.

"Sammy," John said to his pouting son. "Tell me about your classes. What book are you reading in English?" Sam's face instantly lost its scowl. It wasn't often that his father took an interest in his classes.

"We're reading Lord of the Flies. It's so cool."

-----

John led his sons into the Penrose Bar and Grill. The boys immediately took a corner booth and John slid in beside them.

Their waitress appeared after a little time had passed and asked, "Can I take your order?"

"Yes, I'll have steak and mashed potatoes," John requested. "With a black coffee."

"I want steak too," Sam requested. "Well done with a Caesar salad. I'll have a coke to drink."

"I want the ribs and fries, extra spicy," Dean ordered. "I also want black coffee."

"Coming right up," the waitress said with a quick glance toward John, to make sure it was okay to bring coffee for his son.

"Nice try, Dean," John said. "Actually, they'll both have milk, the largest one you have."

"Coming right up," she replied with a smile and left.

"Milk?" Dean questioned his father. "I'm not three."

"You sound like it," John pointed out. He knew he didn't usually give them the proper nutrition they needed sometimes, so when he got a chance, he took it.

"I'm old enough for coffee. You gave me a beer at Bobby's, remember?" Dean pouted.

"If you ever want to have another one, you'll drink your milk," John said firmly. "Besides, coffee stunts your growth."

"It didn't seem to hurt you any," Dean reasoned. His father was 6'3.

"Yes, but I'm the dad," John said using his closing argument.

"I'm never drinking coffee," Sam said. "I'm gonna be bigger than you someday, Dean," Sam spoke up. "Then you can take the cold showers."

"That will never happen, squirt," Dean teased. "It's the rules of the universe. You'll never be bigger than I am."

"Stop calling me squirt," Sam replied, a touch of anger in his voice. He hadn't hit his growth spurt yet.

"Okay," Dean agreed. "Maybe shrimp would be more appropriate."

"Dad," Sam said with a hint of a whine. "Make him stop. You're not supposed to be mean to me."

"James Dean, Samuel Francis," John said trying to sound firm. "One more word and you'll both go sit in the car while I enjoy my nice, hot meal. Then when we get home, you can have oatmeal." It was a food both his sons hated.

"Yes sir," they both said instantly.

"You know, dad," Dean couldn't resist adding. "When you want to chew us out, it usually helps to not look like you're about to burst out laughing."

"Dean," John warned, but was unable to get any further before he did start laughing. He was relishing this normal family moment. They were so few and far between.

The waitress brought their food shortly afterwards, and they all dug in hungrily.

"When are your games?" John asked.

"Saturday. It starts at 2," they both said in unison.

_Uh oh, John thought._ A regular game was one thing, but this was the championship.

"You're coming, right?" they both asked again.

He couldn't be in two places at once. "Um," he said trying to stall.

"You promised. It's the championship. You have to come," Sam begged. "Everybody else's parents are going to be there."

Dean opened his mouth. John had thought that Dean was going to solve all his problems. He fully expected Dean to tell him to go to Sam's game. It's what he did. He put his little brother first in everything, even if there was something he truly wanted for himself. Of course, he was anything but predictable. "You said you were coming to my game, dad. I want you to see us win."

It was true that Dean normally would have told his dad to go see Sam's game, but he had let his dad down on several occasions between his grades, and whatever he did at Bobby's that had caused them to leave. His dad had seemed mad at him then, and he hadn't known what he had done, so he wanted to make his dad proud.

"I know I promised, boys, and I want to be there, but I can't be in two places at once. There are 2 halves in a soccer game. I'll watch the first half of yours, Dean, and the last half of yours, Sam. Is that okay?"

"But," Dean protested. "You won't be there if we win."

"I want you to see us win, dad," Sam replied. He was a little disappointed that Dean wouldn't be there to watch him as well. "So whose game are you going to?" Sam suddenly demanded.

There was no way for John to answer this question. It would look like he was picking one son over the other. _God, help me. Mary, I need you_. _"_We'll settle this the Winchester way. A competition. The winner gets to pick which half I watch."

"But that's not fair," Sam whined. "Dean's bigger."

"It'll be fair," John promised.

"Let's make it an academic competition," Sam suggested.

"No way," Dean spoke up. School had always been a sruggle for him.

"Samuel," John cautioned. Dean was sensitive about his grades, and it embarrassed him when he didn't do well.

"It will play to both your strengths. Now, both of you finish your dinner. If I hear one more word out of both your pie holes, you're both grounded and neither one of you will go to your games. Am I clear?" John said in his best drill sergeant's voice.

"Yes sir," both boys said reluctantly.

-----

That night, John lay in his bed, still trying to figure out what to do. If he had a sparring match, shooting or knife throwing, Dean was going to win. Sam had yet to beat his big brother. If he asked them to research some supernatural creature, or translate something into Latin, Sam was going to win. It wasn't that Dean wasn't smart, it was just that circumstances had prevented him from attending school on a regular basis during the early years, and he had never gotten that solid foundation that Sam had. It was just something else that John felt guilty about.

He actually hated this idea of pitting them against each other. He had thought about using soccer, to see how many times Sam could score against Dean. If Dean made the save, he'd get a point, if Sam scored, he would get a point, and whoever had the most points at the end of 10 minutes would win. He instantly rejected that idea as well. It had the potential to end in disaster. If Dean won, Sam would accuse him of playing favourites, as Dean was 4 years older than Sam. If Sam won, it could destroy any confidence that Dean had built up in himself, that he couldn't stop someone who was four years younger than him.

This whole competition idea was stupid, yet it was the only thing he could think of. Every idea he came up with was no good. He was getting to the point where he wished they were still at Bobby's, because then he wouldn't be in this mess.

What in the hell was he supposed to do? He could find a hunt and drag the boys with him, but that would just make both boys mad. Sometimes being a single father really sucked.

----

John kept stalling whenever the boys asked when the competition would take place. What John hated was that it was affecting the relationship between his sons. They had always bantered, but lately, they had been sniping at each other, and their comments were starting to get mean spirited.

He finally couldn't take it anymore when he physically had to pull his sons apart. He wasn't even sure what had started it.

"That's enough," he said.

"He's going to see me win," Sam yelled as he struggled in his father's hold.

"No, I want him to see me win," Dean yelled back, trying to get at his brother.

"How's this? I'm not going to either game," John shouted before thinking.

Both boys went still.

"But dad," they both protested.

"You two work this out, without bloodshed," he replied. "If you can't, then I guess you're both going to be disappointed."

He walked away.

"This is your fault," Sam suddenly accused.

"Mine?" Dean said in disbelief. "You always hog dad."

"I do not. This is important to me, Dean," Sam said. "Dad's not home a lot, and I want him to see me win."

"You don't think it's important to me?" Dean yelled back.

"But you never care about these things," Sam said, a touch of hesitation entering his voice.

"I care about this," Dean said honestly. "You get... I mean, Dad's never seen me..." Dean stopped as if he had said too much. "Forget it. I don't want to fight, Sammy, and I don't want to miss the game. You can tell dad he can watch the last half of your game." He turned and stormed out of the house. Sam heard the door slam.

He watched his brother leave. He guessed that Dean was going to the Impala, as he often did when he was upset. He just wished he could figure out why this was such a big deal to his brother. After all, he had never cared before.

He went to his room, he had to get his homework done. He pulled out his science test. He was required to get his father to sign all his tests. He didn't mind though, he had gotten a 97.

"Hey dad," Sam called his father.

"In here," John answered from the kitchen, where he was making diner.

"My teacher needs you to sign this," Sam said, handing his test to his dad.

"Good job," John said when he saw the mark. "Did you and your brother come to a conclusion?"

"Yeah. Dean said you can come to the last half of my game."

"Okay," John replied. "Did you get your English essay back?"

"Yeah. I got an A+. My teacher said it was very creative. I won the 6th grade competition. You know that. Mrs. Kurtzman told you it was the best one in class at parent/teacher day, and you were there to see me get the award. I was glad you could see me get it."

"Sorry, I forgot," John replied. "What about that class project you guys did? The one on Japan."

"Daadddd," Sam said in an exasperated tone. "We got a 100. The teacher told you that as well."

"Refresh my memory, Sammy. What else did she say?"

"That I was her smartest student and she really enjoyed having me in her class," Sam was beginning to wonder if his father had gone crazy.

"I'm proud of you, Sammy, for keeping your grades up. I've seen you get a lot of praise and awards these last few months."

Sam got the distinct feeling his father was trying to tell him something.

"Tell your brother to stop listening to music. He's got a history test tomorrow. He has to pass or whose game I'm going to will no longer be an issue." John turned back to the sink.

Sam went to go do that when he realized exactly what his father had been trying to tell him. Their father had been called to Dean's school as many times as he had been called to Sam's. Where Sam's was for honors and awards, the meetings with Dean's teachers often involved talks of extra tutoring, or Dean working in the resource room. Soccer was something Dean excelled at, and he wanted his father to see him win something. Sure, their father had seen him win games, but that was nothing compared to leading your team to victory in the championship.

"Hey, dad," Sam called back over his shoulder. He still wanted his dad to see him, but he knew this was something that Dean needed more. "You can go to the last half of Dean's game. I want you to."

"Okay, Sammy," John said, glad that Sam had made that decision. "I'm proud of you. Now, really, go get your brother."

"Yes sir," Sam said and headed out the door. Dean's smile had been worth it when Sam told him.

------

"So did they win?" Cindy asked.

"Yeah, they both did," John said with a smile. He had left out some parts of the story, though. Dean didn't know about the conversation he and Sam'd had. "Dean stopped 16 shots and Sam scored 3 goals. They were both named MVP on their teams."

"That wasn't the best part, though," Dean spoke up.

"What was?" Cindy asked.

"After my game finished, we went to go pick up Sam. They had a delay in finishing the game, and me and dad got there for the last five minutes of Sammy's game. We saw him score the winning goal."

"Some more good news," Cindy replied as she took Dean's vitals after John's story. "So far, everything's looking good. How are you feeling, Dean?"

"I don't feel anything wrong, I swear," Dean said sincerely.

"Yup. I'm glad I got to see both my boys win," John said and reached out to ruffle Dean's hair, forgetting that he was bald underneath the Led Zeppelin bandana he had tied around his head. He stopped himself just in time.

"Dad, it's been an hour. Sammy should be out of the anaesthetic by now. Can't he come see me?"

"He's still going to be pretty groggy," John said stalling again.

"Can't he just come in a wheelchair? I just want to know he's alright."

That was when John opened his mouth and inserted his size 13 steel toed boot. "Dean, Sam is going to be fine. I promise you."

Dean stilled as the words slipped out of John's mouth. "What happened?" he said sounding frantic, and trying to sit up.

"Dean, lie still. Sam's fine. Calm down," John said applying gentle pressure on his shoulders.

"That's not what you said. You said he's going to be fine. That means something happened. What the hell's wrong with Sammy?"

TBC

Please remember to feed the muse and leave a review on your way out. It only takes one to make her happy and I don't want her to leave me.


	23. Chapter 23

I would like to give the usual thanks to Soar, JuliaAurelia and Sinead-Conlan.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Real life is just a bit hectic at the moment.

Chapter 23

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

Being a big brother was something Dean took very seriously. From the moment Sam had been born, Dean had vowed to protect him. From the moment his father had put his brother into his arms and told him to run during the fire, it was no longer just about being Sam's big brother, it was about keeping him safe at all times, no matter what. It was his job, his responsibility.

It was part of the reason Dean hadn't wanted Sam to be his bone marrow donor. No matter how safe something was supposed to be, there was always a risk, and when his father had told him that Sam was going to be fine, his brain had automatically seized on the words 'going to be', which meant, right now, he wasn't fine.

"What the hell happened?" Dean questioned his father, sounding frantic. "What's wrong with Sammy?"

"Nothing," his father said and Dean could immediately tell that his father was feeling guilty, because he wouldn't make eye contact, confirming Dean's fears that something had happened to Sammy.

"No," Dean said shaking his head. "You said he was going to be fine. That means something happened. Tell me what's wrong with my brother."

"Dean, please," John said, his tone just as frantic as his son's. Dean was getting seriously agitated. He looked to Cindy, silently pleading for help.

The nurse watched as her patient grew more and more distraught.

"Dean!" John said worriedly and he grabbed Dean's arm as it suddenly shot up, trying to grab at the tubes and wires on his chest.

"Get this crap off me," Dean said forcefully. "I want to go see Sammy." He was fighting his father's hold on him.

"Dean, you have to calm down," Cindy said trying to calm him. She really felt bad, but it could be disastrous if he pulled out his lines. "I talked to Dr. Scott and they had some problems with Sam's blood pressure when he was under the anaesthetic. It's fine now," she lied smoothly. She really hoped that was the case. "He just needs to sleep it off. He'll be groggy, so he may not be up to visiting."

"I want to see him," Dean repeated, again trying to shake off his father.

"You can't leave, Dean," John said trying to hold him down. The senior hunter couldn't believe how much trouble he was having trying to pin Dean's arms. He hadn't had this much energy since before the anaemia. It was definitely the wrong thing to say.

"I can," he said stubbornly. "I can sign myself out AMA."

"Yeah, and you'd be signing your own death warrent," John said bluntly. "What's Sam going to think of that? That he risked his life for nothing?"

The fight left Dean as fast as it had entered him. "I didn't want Sammy to do it," Dean reminded his father.

John instantly felt bad. He could feel Dean's guilt and even Cindy's glare. He reached out and laid a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder. "I'm sorry, kiddo," he said sincerely. "I didn't mean that. I'm just worried about you and your brother. Sam's fine," John had to add quickly. "You boys, you're all I got."

Dean lay back down. "Sammy's okay?"

"He's fine, I promise, kiddo. Just give him a few hours to sleep off the anaesthetic, and we'll be fighting to keep him in bed. Can't keep a Winchester down, you know that."

"How are you feeling, Dean," Cindy replied as she gave him a quick once over to make sure none of his tubes had been disturbed.

"I'm good, promise."

John looked to Dean's nurse for confirmation. "So far everything's looking good."

-------

"It's been 3 hours already," Dean complained.

"I told you," John said trying to sound patient. "Bobby will let us know when Sam wakes up." He was worried, but trying not to show it. If he got upset, there would be no hope of keeping Dean in bed.

"Go check on him," Dean said changing tactics.

"Bobby's with him," John replied. He wanted to see his younger son desperately, though. He had thought nothing could compare to losing Mary, but having both his sons fighting for their lives at the same time, and not being able to be with both of them was that much worse.

He and Mary had thought they'd never have a family. Adopting Dean and having Sam had brought a light to Mary's eyes that nothing else could. She would kick his ass from here to hell and back for the way he had raised them, and he couldn't let her down again by letting anything happen to them. He made a silent vow, if medical science couldn't help his boys, then the supernatural would. John didn't care if he had to summon that yellow eyed son of a bitch and make a deal with him. Nothing was going to happen to Mary's boys.

"Go check on him," Dean said insistently.

"I promised you I would stay with you when you had the transplant. I'm not breaking that," John said firmly. He had a feeling that Dean was testing him. That if he left to go check on Sam, it would provide confirmation that his brother wasn't out of the woods, and give Dean the excuse he needed to make a break for his brother's side. John steeled himself and stayed firm when Dean repeated his request every time Cindy took his vitals.

------

Time was a funny thing, Bobby thought as he continued his vigil by Sam's bedside. When you had a deadline, it flew, but when you really wanted something, it dragged. Right now, the only thing he wanted was for Sam to wake up. It had been over 5 hours now, Dean's transplant should be over and done. As much as Bobby wanted to sit next to his own son's bedside, he didn't envy John's task right now. Dean had to be suspicious that something was up with his brother. Bobby jerked every time he heard a noise, thinking it was Dean who had somehow figured out they were lying to him. Nothing would stop Dean if he thought Sam was in danger.

"You look like you could use this," a voice said gently.

Bobby looked up and saw Dean's nurse standing next to him, holding a cup of steaming, black coffee. "Thanks," he said, gratefully accepting the hot beverage. "How's Dean?"

"So far, so good. The marrow's completely in, and so far there are no signs of rejection. It's still very early, but it's a good sign."

"How come you're not with Dean?" Bobby asked.

"Dr. Scott's spelling me for a bit. I came to check on Sam."

"Thanks," Bobby replied. "Is Dean questioning you about Sam?"

"Yeah," Cindy said honestly. "Won't let up."

Bobby couldn't help the grin that made its way onto his face. "Sound's right. What are you telling him?"

"Just that Sam's blood pressure dropped during the surgery, and that he's sleeping it off. I don't usually believe in keeping things from people, but there was no way I was telling him that Sam's heart had stopped. "

"Good call," Bobby agreed.

"I've seen a lot in my career, but I've never seen siblings as close as they are."

"You don't know the half of it," Bobby replied. "Things were never easy. Don't get me wrong, John was a good father, but it's tough being a single one, and Dean looked after Sam a lot. They're a pair, can't have one without the other."

"I'm beginning to see that," Cindy replied.

"Hear that, Sammy," Bobby called. "You need to wake up."

Unbeknownst to Bobby, Sam was trying to do just that. He had his mind focused on the weekend after he had spilled Dean's secret to the entire school.

------

_**PAST**_

"Are you sure about this son?" John addressed his eldest as he double checked the contents of his duffle bag. It had surprised the senior hunter when Dean had told him that he was spending the weekend with Sam.

"Yeah," Dean said firmly.

Content that he had everything he needed, John zipped up his duffle bag and looked his son in the eye, trying to see if he was telling the truth, or was still doubting his ability. He laid a hand on Dean's shoulder. "You _**can**_ do this, Dean," John said sincerely. "I believe in you."

Those four words were almost enough to make Dean change his mind. It was true, he was still a bit nervous, but he had meant what he had told Sam, family came first. "I know, but I'm sure."

"Okay," John replied. "Just remember, Sam's grounded this weekend. He's not to set one foot outside this apartment. No TV, or phone calls, and he has to make sure all the chores I gave him are completed. I mean it, Dean."

"Yes, sir," Dean replied instantly, leaving John with the impression that he had plans to do anything but.

"That's an order!" John added in his most strict tone.

"Yes sir," Dean parroted. "Not one foot outside the apartment."

John still wasn't quite sure he trusted him, but decided to let it go. Dean was up to something. "I'll be back by Monday or Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest. You know the drill."

"Lock the doors, close the shades, check the salt lines before bed, make sure I get Sammy and me to school on time, don't answer the phone unless it rings once first, shoot first, ask questions later, and watch out for Sammy," Dean said robotically and avoided the temptation to roll his eyes. His dad made him do this every time he left.

"It's important, dude, you know that. I'm just going to go say goodbye to your brother."

"'Kay. Dad... be careful."

"Always," John replied as he reached out and ruffled Dean's short hair.

------

After locking the door, Dean sat on the couch wanting to watch TV. He looked up and saw that the remote was still on top of the TV. An evil grin slowly spread across his face.

"Hey, Sam," he called to his brother. "Come here."

"What?" his brother said a few moments later from where he had been in his room.

"I need the TV remote," Dean replied.

Sam shot a glare at his brother. "You called me out here for that? You're like 3 feet away from it. You could have gotten it and been back on the couch by now. I have a math test I have to study for."

"I need the remote," Dean pouted.

"Fine," Sam huffed. He didn't know why he felt so annoyed. He knew he was in for it this weekend, Dean was planning on turning him into his personal slave. He grabbed the remote, and tossed it on his brother's lap. He had just gotten to the door of the living room when he heard his brother's voice call out to him softly. "Oh, Sammy."

"What?" Sam replied in a forced tone.

"I'm a bit hungry. Can you a make me a sandwich?"

Knowing it was best to just comply, Sam went to the kitchen and made Dean a baloney sandwich, his current favourite. He somehow wasn't surprised that when he brought it to his brother, Dean announced that he wanted peanut butter and jelly. Sam checked the fridge and was relieved only to find strawberry jelly, because if they had two kinds, Dean would have no doubt wanted the other one. Knowing they shouldn't waste food, Sam just decided to eat the other sandwich. He poured himself a glass of milk, and went to the living room and sat next to Dean.

"I'm thirsty," Dean announced. "Can you get me some juice?"

"You couldn't have asked me that while I was in the kitchen?"

"I wasn't thirsty then," Dean replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"We have apple and orange. Which do you want?"

"Surprise me," was Dean's answer.

Going back to the kitchen, Sam knew what would happen, no matter which one he brought out, so he poured one of each and brought them back to his brother.

He was a little wary about what else Dean had planned for that night, and he resigned himself to not getting any more studying done. Dean was obviously planning to torture him.

A few hours later, Sam went to bed, wishing the night had been longer. He couldn't remember a time when he'd had such a good night involving training.

First, Dean broke one of his father's rules and he made Sam watch TV with him. They had watched a movie called The Outsiders. Sam had never seen it before, but he really loved it and he found himself identifying with the characters. Then they watched Dean's favourite movie, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, and Sam was surprised by how much he enjoyed it. Afterwards, Sam had taken care of the dishes, and then Dean had made him work on his poker skills. It had been nothing like playing with his father, where all his father did was criticize and tell him that he needed to focus. Dean made it fun, and he had beaten his brother a few times, but Sam knew that Dean had let him win. Even their dad had trouble beating Dean these days. Sam had suspected that Dean was actually counting the cards.

After playing poker, they moved the coffee table out of the way and sparred for a bit, then they did some physical training, such as push ups and sit ups. Then they worked on their Latin, which their dad required of them. Dean turned it into a competition and they did a mock exorcism, taking turns at playing the demon. Instead of hollering mean things at each other, they told funny stories about past prank wars, seeing who could distract the other by making them laugh the hardest. Sam had been impressed with the improvement Dean had made in his pronunciation, and he had no doubt that Dean could have handled the exorcism for real, and made sure Dean knew that.

------

"Hey, Sammy, wake up time," Dean called the next day.

Sam groaned and rolled over, looking at the clock on the bedside table. "It's 6:30," he pointed out tiredly, as he shut his eyes and tried to go back to sleep.

"I know, but we need to get some miles in," Dean replied.

Sam reluctantly cracked one eye open and found his brother dressed in sweats. It was one thing that always surprised Sam. His brother hated getting up early, except for one day a week. On Saturdays, he liked to get up before his brother, or his father, and go for a run. He usually went by himself, and he said that it helped him clear his mind.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean replied pulling the covers off, causing Sam to throw a few choice words at his brother.

"Language, Sammy," Dean admonished. "I didn't even know that you knew such words."

"You're the one that taught them to me, jerk," Sam replied as he sat up and glared at his brother.

"Good to see you're paying attention, bitch," Dean replied.

Dean waited patiently in the hallway for Sam to get dressed. He did usually prefer to take these runs by himself, but he had had such a good time with his brother last night, that he didn't want it to end. Sam usually ended up becoming a social butterfly no matter where they went and Dean missed the kid brother that had followed him around. He felt like he was losing Sammy, and he wanted to get that connection back. That's why he had stayed home. He shook himself free of his thoughts, and checked his watch. _God, Sammy was worse than a girl sometimes_.

"You done primping yet," Dean called.

"I'm coming," Sam shot back and he joined his brother in the hallway. "You do realize that I am grounded," he reminded his brother.

"I know," Dean replied as he opened the door. "What I want you to do is jump through, make sure you land on both feet, okay?"

Sam looked at his brother like he was crazy, but did as he was told. "There. Now you're not breaking dad's rules. You didn't stick one foot outside the apartment. By jumping, you put both feet out at once," Dean explained with a self satisfied grin.

-------

The run had been surprisingly pleasant, and Sam could understand why Dean did it. They didn't talk much, Dean listened to his music and Sam concentrated on keeping up with Dean. He knew his brother was slowing his pace for him.

When they were done, they went back to the apartment for a shower, then Sam grabbed his math book, wanting to study. He really needed to do well on this test and math was his toughest subject, but apparently, Dean wasn't done. He told Sam that they were going out. Dean made him hop through the door again.

The first place they went was to the home of Dean's tutor. Sam wished he had brought his math book with him, as he thought that he would be bored, but he was anything but. He sat at the table with Dean and Patti while they worked on his book report. It was on The Outsiders and Sam guessed that was why Dean had watched the movie the other night. He was trying to get out of reading the book. Then he learned that Patti had actually suggested it to help Dean visualize the story.

Sam knew that his brother still struggled with his reading, and when Patti made him read out loud, it was slow and hesitant, but when they discussed what he had read, Dean made a lot of good points, and had some good observations. In light of what their dad had told him, it made Sam feel guilty all over again. Then Sam watched in surprise as Dean helped Patti with her math. It seemed that his brother had a natural aptitude in the subject. He was going to have to ask Dean to help him with his own math when he got home.

After they were done studying, Patti and Dean decided to go to the park. Sam had once again felt a little uncomfortable, thinking he was going to be a third wheel, but Patti said that she was inviting her little brother, Austin, who was Sam's age, to go with them.

Austin didn't go to their school, which is why Sam had never met him. He had been born deaf and went to a school for the hearing impaired. Patti was fluent in sign language, and showed Sam a few signs he could use to communicate with Austin, and Sam had been surprised to learn how many Dean had managed to pick up.

At the park, they headed for the empty baseball diamond, and Dean helped both Sam and Austin with their hitting and pitching, while Patti cheered from the sidelines. A group of other boys soon joined them, and they got involved in a pick up game.

After playing baseball, they went back to Patti's place for lunch, where they had macaroni and cheese, and homemade apple pie for dessert.

Patti and Dean decided to take a walk afterwards, and Austin invited Sam to play soccer with him in the backyard. Dean told him to go ahead, and Sam eagerly went out back with his new friend. Communication was a bit tough, but they managed, and he didn't want to leave when Dean told him that they had to get going.

On the way home, Sam asked Dean if they could stop by the library, he wanted to pick up a book on sign language.

"We have to make a stop first," Dean replied.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked.

"To the ATM," Dean replied as he stopped in front of the door to a pool hall.

"But…" Sam started to protest.

"Relax, Sammy," Dean replied. "It's for kids under 18. There's no alcohol, so you can go in. There's not supposed to be any gambling, but what the owner doesn't know, won't hurt him. I don't even have to hustle. The jerks in here think they're God's gift to the game. It's like taking candy from a baby."

Sam watched as Dean started up a game against some guy. Dean won and the guy asked his brother if he would like to make it more interesting. Sam hid a smirk. The guy was trying to hustle Dean. 30 minutes and 50 dollars later, the guy stormed off. Dean pocketed his funds and for the next while, he helped Sam with his game, like with poker the night before, Sam really enjoyed it because his brother made it fun.

They stopped by the library and Sam got his book, and then they went to the video store and rented a few movies. Sam was really shocked to see Dean disobeying their father's orders by letting him watch TV.

That night when Sam went to bed, he slept like a log. He found himself really looking forward to Sunday. His math test was the furthest thing from his mind.

------

_**PRESENT**_

"It's been over 12 hours," Dean pointed out.

"Dean, enough," John replied and he reached up to adjust his mask. He was really starting to find the protective clothing confining. He couldn't even step outside for a few minutes to take a breather, despite both Cindy and Dr. Scott telling him to. Dean was looking for any excuse, and if John left, he wasn't going to be leaving alone.

"Dean, I was just down to check on Sam," Cindy said. "He's doing good. Having low blood pressure can make you tired and combine that with anaesthetic, it's no wonder Sam's still sleeping, but his vitals are strong. Just give it a few more hours okay?"

"One more hour," Dean said firmly. "Then I'm going to check on him." No one in the room doubted him.

_Come on, Sammy, wake up, John pleaded silently._

-----

_**PAST**_

Sam was actually awake before Dean the next day. He decided to surprise his brother and have breakfast ready. It wasn't much, just frozen waffles, but they were pretty good.

Sam asked if they were doing anything that day, and Dean grinned and said that he wanted to go see the Batman movie that was playing at movie theater that showed older movies. Sam wasn't a huge Batman fan, but he went anyway. The movie was okay, and afterwards, the brothers went to a local diner for lunch.

They had just received their menus from the waitress when Dean suddenly stiffened. "You okay?" Sam inquired worriedly.

"I'm fine. What do you say we go to Burger King?" he suddenly suggested.

"Why? I thought you liked the meatloaf here."

"It's just..." Dean said looking over Sam's shoulder.

"What?" Sam turned and saw a group of kids about Dean's age coming in. They looked vaguely familiar, and Sam remembered seeing them around school. They must have been in Dean's grade.

"Hey, Winchester," one of the boys said sliding in next to Dean. He grabbed the menu out of Dean's hand. "Why do you need that? Want me to read it to you?"

"Shut up," Dean mumbled as he grabbed his menu back. Sam felt his temper growing and his guilt returning.

"It's no wonder the teacher never makes your read out loud in class," another of the boys commented.

Sam remembered back to when Dean was reading with his tutor and he could understand why Dean avoided it. "He's still smarter than you," Sam shot back.

"Sam, it's okay," Dean replied.

"No, it's not," Sam defended his brother. "You don't know anything, so just shut up."

"Oh, little brother has to fight your battles, too," another kid snarked. "Why don't you make me?" the kid said to Sam, trying to sound menacing.

"Make one move toward him, and you're gonna regret it." Dean's tone was silent but deadly.

"I'm quaking in my boots," the kid replied. "See ya in English, Winchester, if you can read the number on the door that is." He laughed like he had said the funniest thing ever and Sam's temper snapped.

"I told you to shut up," Sam said firmly, stood up, curled his hands into fists and let his arm fly. Having been trained by Dean and John Winchester, his aim was accurate, and the guy went flying.

"Hey," the manager said coming over to them. "Get out of here, all of you. I won't tolerate fighting."

"Time to beat a hasty retreat," Dean said and he and Sam slipped out as the others were helping their friend up.

Sam couldn't agree more. "I'm sorry," Sam replied. "I hope I didn't make things worse for you?" Sam said worriedly.

"That was great, Sammy," Dean praised his brother. "That guy's gonna have a shiner, and there's no way he's going to want to admit it was done by an eighth grader. Great shot, Sammy."

"Thanks, Dean," Sam replied. "Sorry for getting us kicked out of your favourite restaurant."

"Don't worry about it, Sammy," Dean said. "I imagine we're going to be moving soon after dad gets back anyway."

This was one time Sam was actually looking forward to moving.

"Hey, Sam, Dean," a voice called to them. They turned and found Patti and Austin coming up behind them. They waved to Austin and returned Patti's greeting. "We're headed to the diner for lunch. Want to join us?"

"Um, we were just headed to Burger King," Dean suggested and Sam practiced his signing skills. Austin readily agreed.

The four of them spent the rest of the day together. Patti drove them to the mall, and the three of them managed to talk Dean into going on the roller rink. Sam had to laugh at his normally agile brother trying to stay upright. After that, they went and looked around the stores for a bit before they went back to Patti's house for dinner.

It was late when they got back to the apartment and Sam was way too tired to study. He was glad that things were back to normal with him and Dean though.

When he took his test the next day, he knew he hadn't done well. It was confirmed when he got his first ever D. The thing was, it was the grade that he was most proud of. Mainly because of that failed test, he had learned a lot about his brother, and Sam wouldn't have traded that weekend for anything.

------

John had been sitting by Dean's bedside for over 13 hours now. Dean had finally succumbed to sleep. Cindy didn't know why she was surprised that Dean had managed to fight it so long. As much as John wanted to stay with Dean, he also wanted to see Sam, and he had to get out and take the mask off. He was starting to feel like he was going to suffocate.

"He's probably going to sleep for a while," Cindy offered. "Go, get out of that stuff for a bit. Grab a cup of coffee and something to eat, and check on your other son. You're not going to be doing anyone any good if you make yourself sick."

John had to admit that it was a tempting offer. "My beeper is on the table outside. Take it. I'll page you if he so much as twitches," Cindy said, sweetening the pot.

"I think I will. I'll be back in a half hour, tops," John said gratefully.

Rising from his chair, John whispered to his son that he would be back soon, and he sent another silent prayer that Dean would stay asleep. He figured that Bobby would end up here after he had checked on Sam anyway, and give him a chance to sit with Sam for a bit.

After shedding the protective clothing, John really wanted to go straight to see Sam, but his growling stomach steered him toward the cafeteria where he grabbed a sandwich and a cup of coffee. He practically inhaled it in one bite and then headed toward the ICU.

Bobby was a little surprised to see him, but he understood why John had to take a break. He and John decided to risk it and switch places for a bit.

------

Bobby sterilized himself and went in to sit with Dean. It was a couple of hours later when Dean woke up. He hadn't expected to find Bobby sitting beside him.

"Where's dad and Sam?" he asked suspiciously.

"Your dad's sitting with Sam for a while," Bobby replied.

"That's it," Dean said finally and struggled to sit up.

"Lie back down, son," Bobby said reacting instantly.

"Dean, you could hurt yourself," Cindy cautioned.

"I don't care, I want to see my brother. Now get this crap out of me or I'm taking care of it."

A smile suddenly lit up Bobby's face. "That won't be necessary," he said and pointed to the window.

The young hunter looked to where Bobby was pointing. John was standing behind a wheelchair, and seated in the chair was Sam, who was waving to his brother.

TBC

Please read and review.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Thank you to Soar for the beta. I would also like to thank JuliaAurelia and Sinead-Conlan for the encouragement

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

Sam Winchester slowly opened his eyes and looked around the room, trying to get his bearings. His lower back was so stiff he could barely move.

"Sam," a voice to his left called out hesitantly. "Sammy," the voice suddenly became firmer with a touch of worry in the tone.

"Yeah," he said hoarsely as he yawned. He looked to his left and saw his father sitting next to his bed. "Dad, what the hell are you doing here?" Sam didn't know why he was so surprised that even just fresh out of surgery and groggy from the anaesthetic, he could still find a way to be angry at his father. "You promised him," he accused.

"Sam, I was with Dean," John defended himself as he reached for the call button to get a doctor. "He's doing okay, and so far there are no signs of rejection or infection."

"How long was I out?" Sam asked in confusion.

"Almost 13 hours. You had some problems with your blood pressure. Let me tell you, you gave us quite a scare, kiddo."

"13 hours?" Sam said in disbelief and sat up. "Oh crap," he swore as the aches and pains he was feeling made themselves known loud and clear.

"You in pain?" John asked worriedly.

"Nothing too bad. Just really stiff. Dad, I need to go see Dean," Sam insisted as he threw his blankets aside.

"You and Dean really are brothers," John mumbled under his breath. "Wait for the doctor. You probably can't even stand up straight. I'll make sure the doctor brings a wheelchair and I'll take you up to see Dean. Me and Bobby have had to practically sit on him to keep him in bed," John joked.

"I want to see him," Sam said in a tone that left no room for argument.

The doctor showed up shortly afterward and filled Sam in on what had happened. "My heart stopped?" Sam questioned in surprise.

"For about 90 seconds," Dr. Young confirmed. "There's no permanent damage, though."

"Sam, all we told Dean was that there were problems with your blood pressure. We felt it best that we didn't mention the thing about your heart."

Sam was in agreement with that one. "Just get me up there," he demanded.

It wasn't long before Sam was unhooked from the heart monitor, and he found himself in a wheelchair being pushed toward the elevators. He wasn't going to relax until he saw for himself that Dean was okay.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief when he saw his brother awake and waving back through the glass window of his room.

-------

If Dean's family thought that time had dragged when they were waiting for Sam to wake up, it was nothing compared to the following weeks as they waited to see if the transplant would take.

It seemed that for every step forward, Dean would take two steps back. Sam, John and Bobby watched helplessly as it seemed that a new tube or wire was added to Dean's collection everyday.

Dr. Scott wasn't happy with his patient's blood counts, so Cindy gave him twice daily injections of some medication that was given to cancer patients to help build cell growth.

Because his counts were so low, it was affecting everything. His energy levels, which had been low before, were non-existent now. Dean slept about 20 hours a day, and when he was awake, he wasn't very coherent, which left all decisions falling on Bobby's shoulders.

His low red counts also meant that his oxygen levels weren't good. The index finger of his left hand now sported a pulse oximeter. Dean also had a full face mask covering his mouth and nose, delivering much needed oxygen.

Because his white count wasn't where it should be, Dean had developed a fever. Sam, Bobby and John had never felt so helpless. They could only stand by, watch and wait for blood test results, as the fever could indicate rejection. The results didn't make them feel better because they revealed that Dean had an infection.

Fever meant additional antibiotics. They were added to one of the ports in Dean's catheter. The doctors needed to leave one of the ports free for the countless blood tests though, so Cindy started an additional IV in Dean's right hand for additional fluids. Bobby questioned that one before signing the consent form, he already had a feeding tube, after all. The answer scared him. He was told that the antibiotics were extremely hard on Dean's kidneys, and that they needed to push extra fluids to prevent them from shutting down.

With the extra fluids, the request for a Foley catheter followed shortly after. In addition to the wires on his chest that measured his heartbeat, and the cuff that monitored his blood pressure, there was almost no place on Dean that didn't have something attached to it.

------

John was taking his turn sitting next to Dean's bed. He was beyond exhausted. When it was Sam or Bobby's turn to sit with Dean, John often didn't go far beyond the anteroom. He'd had about 8 hours sleep in the last 2 days. His eyes were dry and gritty and they felt like they had been rubbed with sandpaper. He had a constant, low grade headache, and he would swear that he was developing a resistance to aspirin. He was going through them like candy.

Sitting in his usual spot, John watched as Cindy gave Dean an injection of growth factor.

"What happens if his counts don't start to improve?" John asked worriedly.

"Don't borrow trouble," Cindy cautioned. "It's only been 3 weeks."

"But you have measurements for where you want him to be," John pointed out.

"Those are averages. I'll be honest, I've seen people who hit those figures long before they were supposed to, and in the end, they didn't survive. I've also seen the exact opposite. Every case is different," Cindy explained.

"Those numbers could also indicate the marrow is not drafting to his bones," John said worriedly.

"Grafting," Cindy corrected gently. "It's too early to say whether the transplant's working or not. I don't want to tell you be patient, because under the circumstances, I know that isn't possible."

"What happens if it doesn't graft?" John repeated.

"There's other things we can do. The growth factor shots help, so do the transfusions. We can also try to give him more of Sam's bone marrow."

"The last time..." John said and he couldn't finish.

"We know that Sam had a reaction to the anaesthetic. We would use a different one, or use a local. I wish I could give you more answers, but all we can do is take this one day at a time. You'll drive yourself crazy over the all the if, ands or buts."

"This is just so frustrating," John said with a rare show of honesty.

It always surprised him that he was being so forthcoming with Cindy. He was sharing things about the boys that he had never told anyone else. He had drilled it into his boys' heads since they were kids, 'we do what we do, and we shut up about it'. Yet here he was doing just the opposite. Granted, he never told her about hunting, but he had come close a few times. Like the time he had told her about Mary's death, and how scared he had been, and even how close he came to losing the boys.

He remembered a similar time in Vietnam. They had been out on patrol and had to take cover in a foxhole. That night had been the scariest of his life. He was convinced that he wasn't going to leave alive. He and 4 other marines, who all felt the same way, had spent the night trying to take their mind off the guns and bombs going off around them by exchanging stories about their hopes and dreams.

"John," a gentle voice said startling him out of his thoughts. "Dean's stable. Are you sure I can't convince you to go to the doctor's lounge and take a nap?"

The offer was extremely tempting. Right now he could barely keep his eyes open. "Sam will be here in about an hour. I'll leave then," he said denying the offer.

"Home or just in the anteroom, like last time?" Cindy challenged.

"What if it was your son lying in this bed?" John snapped. "Sorry", he said immediately afterward, looking contrite.

"I'd be right where you are," Cindy admitted. "I honestly don't mean to lecture, but you have to look after yourself. It's not going to help if you make yourself sick."

John gave a small, sad, soft smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. "I used to tell my wife the same thing," John admitted wistfully. He reached out and lightly stroked the top of Dean's head, knocking the Metallica bandana askew, and leaving a small bit of Dean's bald head peaking out. "She would spend hours by his incubator ignoring the exact same advice. Before the ad... he got stronger, I wasn't allowed in."

"Was he sick a lot?" Cindy probed.

"That first year, yeah. We almost lost him more than once, but no matter what, Mary..." he paused. "Mary wouldn't give up on him."

"I don't think it was just your wife," Cindy said confidently and she was rewarded with one of John's true grins, the ones that reached his eyes. It was the one he only wore when he didn't realize he was doing it, and it usually only adorned his handsome face when he was talking about his sons. It was an expression Cindy loved. Despite the fact that she was married, she could appreciate just how good looking John really was.

"No," a weak voice said catching, both John and Cindy's attention.

John's immediately focused on his son. "Easy, Dean," he said as he resumed his light stroking of Dean's head. Mary had told him that it often had a calming effect on Dean.

"Sammy," he mumbled. "Save Sammy."

"Sammy's safe, Dean," John replied firmly. "You can go back to sleep."

"Dad! Where's Sammy?" Dean was starting to grow a little agitated. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for," John said.

"Werewolf was gonna eat Sammy," Dean said worriedly.

"He's fine. You did good. Now it's time to get some sleep," John all but ordered. He tried to relax when he felt Cindy's eyes on him. Not that he blamed her. He had spun some creative tales to explain Dean's nightmares.

"Sam was attacked by a dog," John lied. "Plus, too many late night horror movies as a kid, he must have been getting mixed up." He was never sure why he added the next part. "Dean was the one that carried Sam out the night of the fire. Ever since then, Dean's felt responsible for Sam."

Cindy knew that the brothers were close, but she had to admit, she had been curious as to why Dean was so protective of Sam. "I wish my sister and I were that close."

"Sam was lucky. Dean protected him from everything from bullies to wild animals."

"Did Dean have a problem with bullies?" Cindy asked curiously. The more she heard about their lives, the more she wanted to.

"Not really. There was one time, it wasn't exactly a bully, but he did have a hard time once. The problem wasn't another student, it was a teacher."

-------

_**1992**_

"Dad," 9 year old Sam Winchester piped up from the back of his father's impala.

"What, Sammy?" John asked as he quickly glanced into the review mirror.

"What if the kids don't like me?" his youngest son asked worriedly.

"They're going to love you, Sammy," John said trying to sound confident. The truth was, he was a little nervous. His youngest was starting grade 4, while his eldest was going into grade 7. It was Dean's first year of junior high school, and it was the first time the boys would be going to different schools.

"If anyone gives you a hard time, you let me know, okay, Sammy," Dean encouraged.

"''Kay. I wish you were coming to my school, Dean."

"Me too, Sammy."

John pulled up in front of the elementary school building, made Dean stay in the car, much to his chagrin, and took Sammy inside.

He came out about 10 minutes later and drove Dean to the junior high building.

"Do you want me to come in with you?" John asked, half teasing, half serious.

Shooting his father a 'get real' look, Dean grabbed his backpack and prepared to leave the car when he felt his father's hand on his shoulder. He resisted the urge to groan. He could tell his dad was going into lecture mode.

"We're going to be here for a while. I want you to stay out of trouble," John said in his best drill sergeant's voice.

"Yes sir," Dean mumbled.

"I mean it," John said firmly, when he read Dean's tone. "I don't want any phone calls about you getting into fights, back talking your teachers, or finding out that I need to pick you up from detention. You can consider this an order. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir," Dean said, his voice barely audible.

"Excuse me?"

"Yes sir," Dean said in an exaggerated tone and got out of the car.

"Kids," John mumbled as he drove away.

-----

6 hours later, Dean entered the locker room to get changed into his gym clothes. He was actually pretty proud of himself. He'd gotten through the day at a new school without getting in trouble for something. That had never happened before. He'd even been invited to sit with a group of guys in the cafeteria at lunch time. He wasn't usually one to make friends, but even he would admit that it was nice not to have to eat by himself all the time.

Now he just had to get through gym. He didn't think he'd have a problem because this class was one of his better ones. He was in good shape thanks to his father's training regime, and he usually got along really well with his gym teachers. Plus, he enjoyed sports and he wasn't a bad athlete.

"Hey, Dean," he heard a kid call to him.

Dean looked up from throwing his over shirt into his locker. "Hey, Owen," Dean greeted the kid.

"You'd better get a move on, Coach Haffner hates it when we're late."

"I'm ready," Dean replied as he pulled his sweat pants on and tucked his amulet under his shirt. He hoped the coach wouldn't make him take it off, he hated being with out it. "What's the coach like?" Dean asked Owen as he followed his classmate into the gymnasium, and the two boys took a seat on the bleachers with everyone else."

"He's not too bad," Owen admitted. "My brother had him last year. He's tough, but if you try your best and keep up with the work, he doesn't give you a hard time."

Dean gulped. Keep up with the work? This was gym. You played sports, there was no work. It was the one thing he counted on. The one class he didn't have to struggle with to pass.

"Yes," Owen said as if he was reading Dean's thoughts. "He gives assignments and tests."

"Great," Dean mumbled sarcastically. So much for the one A he usually got.

"Good afternoon, class," a deep voice called to the assembled students.

"Good afternoon Coach Haffner," the class, except Dean, echoed. For some reason, the group hello thing got on his nerves.

"I hope we can all have a good year," the coach said pleasantly. "I'm tough but fair. I'll respect you if you respect me. I know that you're all eager to get started playing volleyball, so I'll just take attendance. If I call your name and you like to go by something else, just let me know because I'm not a mind reader," Coach Haffner said with a smile.

Dean listened as the coach went through his list. The guy was on the short side, and Dean figured that his dad would tower over him. He had short, blond, messy hair that reminded him a little of Bobby's. His dad could so take this guy. Dean had a feeling even Sammy could. He was busy imagining his 10 year old brother beating up his gym teacher that he wasn't paying attention.

"James Winchester," an impatient voice called out. "Is there a James Winchester?"

_Bueller, Bueller, anyone, Dean thought with a smirk_. This was about a half second before he realized the teacher was talking to him.

"Um, here, sorry sir. I'm just not used to being called James."

"No problem," the coach replied. "I go by my middle name as well. What do I call you?"

"You can call me Dean, sir."

There was a full 10 seconds of silence and Dean was starting to get creeped out by the way the teacher was staring at him. "You want me to believe that your name is James Dean Winchester?"

The young hunter felt his cheeks slowly matching the color of his red t-shirt. He could feel everyone staring at him.

One would think that Dean was used to this, but the truth was that it didn't happen that often. Teachers usually just gave him a look, like they couldn't believe parents would do that to a kid. Dean bit his tongue when that happened because he was proud of his name. He liked having his mom's maiden name and being named after his grandfather.

Most kids his age didn't really bat an eye because the name didn't mean much to them. James Dean was famous in the 40's or 50's or some time long ago. Old people liked him or something. He remembered a time when he was picking up Sammy from a friend's house and the kid's mother had found out about his name. She had gushed for a full 20 minutes about the crush she'd had on the actor, and what a tragedy his death was, and was his mother as big a fan as she was. No matter how many times Dean explained that it was a family name, she wouldn't listen. Finally, his temper got the best of him when the woman asked if his mom would like to come over and watch Rebel Without a Cause while their little ones played. His answer had gotten him banned from bringing Sammy back, and his dad hadn't been too pleased either.

"Dean!" The coach prompted. He was thinking that if Dean couldn't answer right away, he must be making it up.

_Damn it, pay attention, jackass! _"Sorry sir, yes that's my name."

"Then why did you have to think about it?' Coach Haffner prompted.

"Um," Dean started. "It's a fam..."

"Okay, let's see if you can come up with a satisfactory answer for me in detention this afternoon."

Dean stared at his coach in disbelief. He'd gotten so close to not screwing up. Well at least his father wouldn't be able to kill him when he explained why, after all, it was his father that had chosen his name. _Right?_

-------

John Winchester was none too pleased when he drove up in front of the junior high 45 minutes late to pick up his eldest child. Especially when he'd been informed that the detention was for being disrespectful to a teacher, something John had specifically warned him about.

"Dad, are you mad at Dean?" Sam asked.

"It's none of your concern," John said trying to nip this in the bud. His boys were fiercely protective of each other, and if Sam thought John was going to punish his brother, he would defend Dean for hours. On one hand, John liked that his sons protected each other, and he thought his youngest would make one hell of a lawyer if things were different. On the other hand, when Sam got on a roll, it was enough to try the patience of a saint. God help him, Sam was only 10. He didn't even want to think about what would happen once Sam hit his teenage years.

"But dad..."

"Sam, I said enough," John said firmly and he watched as Sam sat back and crossed his arms in a huff.

John turned his attention to his elder son when Dean got in the car. He stayed silent, but he didn't want to get into it in front of Sam. Dealing with one of his little darlings at a time was enough.

When they got home, John sent Sam to his room with strict instructions to stay there until he was told he could come out. Sam just glared at him and stormed out of the room, slamming the door.

Yes, God help him when Sam became a teenager.

"Okay, Dean," John addressed his eldest. "Do you have selective hearing or something? I specifically told you to stay out of trouble. Then I get a call from your school telling me they busted you for the things I recall telling you not to do. I have to get ready for a hunt, I need to know I can count on you to follow orders, Dean. What would happen if the school called and I wasn't there to answer the phone? Do you want social services on our ass?"

"Maybe it's opposite day," Dean said flippantly. He didn't know what had come over him. He had been fully prepared to tell his father it was completely his own fault, but somehow, his self-preservation button got flipped into the off position.

"Excuse me?" John said trying to keep his thoughts in check. _Deep breaths, Johnny. _

"I said maybe it's opposite day," Dean repeated slowly.

"No," John snapped back. "If it was opposite day, you would have followed orders and stayed out of trouble. Every damn time..."

"Maybe I didn't want to set your expectations too high. I mean, if I behaved myself once, wouldn't you expect it every day? I just figured it was best not to get your hopes up."

_One, two three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. _"What's gotten into you?" John suddenly asked, his confusion mounting. Dean had a mouth on him to rival a drunken sailor, but he usually nothing but respectful to his old man.

"Nothing. You expected me to screw up and I did. I guess I finally did something right," Dean hollered back.

"Dean?" John said his tone going from angry to confused. "I didn't expect..."

"Then why did you give me that lecture this morning?" Dean shot back. "You knew it was going to happen."

"I..." John stopped suddenly. It was almost like Dean was trying to make his father angry at him. Like yelling at him for his attitude might make him forget to find out the original reason he'd gotten mad in the first place. "What happened at school, son?' John's tone changed to from militaristic to soft and gentle.

That was the last thing Dean had been expecting and it threw him off balance. He hated when his father changed tactics like that. "Nothing. I'm going to go start my homework," Dean answered and stood up.

"Dean, did someone give you a hard time?"

"No," Dean insisted.

"I can't help if I don't know what's wrong?"

"You can't help anyway, it's your fault," Dean snapped.

That was the last thing John was expecting. "My fault?"

"Yeah, stupid teacher didn't believe me when I told him my name was Dean."

"You're going to have to help me out here, son," John said. It took a while, but John finally got Dean to admit that his gym teacher had given him a detention because he didn't believe that anyone would really name their son James Dean.

"I'll talk to him," John offered.

"No," Dean cried. "Dad, you can't. Only bitches send a grown up."

"Language," John admonished gently. "I would give you your birth certificate, but it's in a safe deposit box in Blue Earth." John was actually lying. The boys' birth certificates were sown into a hidden lining in his duffle bag. He just didn't want Dean seeing his, since it listed his real birth mother. "Just go in and talk to your teacher. It's on your records anyway."

"Okay. Thanks, dad," Dean said sincerely. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry about... you know, earlier."

"I know, and since this detention wasn't technically your fault, I won't punish you for it, but your attitude is entirely under your control. No TV this weekend. No cheating either. I'll know if you break it."

"Yes, sir," Dean replied. He had no doubt his father was telling the truth.

"Um, Dean, about your name. It was just a coincidence, your mother..."

"I know," Dean said cutting him off. "Mom's name was James. Besides only _**old**_ people know who James Dean is," Dean said emphasizing the word directly at his father before taking off out the kitchen door.

"Old am I," John said pretending to be insulted. "I'll show you who's old." He followed his son out the door.

------

_**Present**_

"Why would his teacher think he was lying?" Cindy questioned. "I know James Dean isn't common, but it's not something a kid his age would make up."

"I'm not entirely sure," John admitted. "I spoke to the teacher and he said that Dean had hesitated or something before explaining, and his teacher thought he was trying to come with some excuse."

"I wanted to ask myself," Cindy admitted. "I'm not judging, believe me, I'm not in a position to."

"It's okay. Mary and I guessed it would come up." He explained to Cindy how they came up with it, and why they had decided to call him Dean instead of James. "Why aren't you in a position to judge?" he then asked curiously.

"My full name's Hyacinth. No, I'm not joking. My sister Lily is actually Lilac. My parents were botanists who liked to smoke their subjects more than they liked studying them."

John couldn't help the full belly laugh that came out of him. It actually felt good.

"So, you can't leave the story there. What happened with the teacher?"

"Dean went to him before class and explained. His teacher actually said he was glad that he did, because he owed Dean an apology. I guess he checked Dean's enrolment form."

"I'm guessing it didn't end there though," Cindy speculated.

"I wish it did, but no. It's kind of hard to describe. I don't think the teacher bullying him is the right word, I think he was more ignorant than anything."

"Now you have me really curious," Cindy said.

"You know about Dean's heart surgery, right?" Cindy nodded and John continued. "It was 1983 when Dean had his surgery, before those fancy cameras and all that. It was open heart and it left a big scar."

"You said you had it removed." Cindy wished she had the name of the doctor that did the procedure. With most of those scar removal procedures, there was usually some faint trace of it left. She had asked once, but he had never really answered.

"Dean hated it," John admitted. "He hated anyone mentioning it or asking about it. What happened was the reason Dean begged me to look at getting it removed."

-----

_**1992**_

After the incident with his teacher, Dean made sure to make an extra effort to be polite, and so far it had been paying off, and Dean had avoided any more detentions. He couldn't believe the coach had actually admitted he was sorry.

The school that the boys attended was one of the nicer ones, and this one actually had an indoor swimming pool, so the coach decided that they were going to do a water polo unit.

Dean was a good swimmer. His dad had made sure both his boys were strong and comfortable in the water after a water sprite almost drowned Sammy. Dean hated taking his shirt off and having people stare at his scar though, and he knew that's what was going to happen, because that's what always happened. It was old and it had faded, but it was still visible, especially if you knew it was there. He debated leaving his t-shirt on, but no one else did, and he didn't want to seem like a wuss. He was tempted to say he had forgot his swimsuit, but that was worth a detention, and his dad had left on a hunt so he really didn't want the school trying to call.

Knowing he had no choice, Dean pulled his t-shirt over his head and grabbed his towel and wrapped it around his neck. It temporarily solved his problem. Maybe he could just jump in the water and no one would see it.

He had only been four at the time of his surgery, and most of the memories were fuzzy, as were most of his memories before the fire. He always found it strange that the only thing he remembered clearly about that time was the breathing tube. He remembered waking up and feeling like he was choking, and his mother and father standing right beside him, telling him to calm down and that he was okay.

Dean shook his head to clear his thoughts. He so didn't need to be thinking about his mother. Instead, he concentrated on what the coach was saying. After explaining the rules and breaking the boys into teams, Dean joined the line up to hang up their towels before they entered the water for some warm up laps.

"Come on, Dean, you're holding up the line," Coach Haffner said when Dean hesitated before taking his towel off his neck.

Pulling the towel off and hanging it up, Dean tried to keep his hands over that spot on his chest. He had almost gotten away with it, except Owen managed to catch a glimpse of what he was trying to hide.

"What happened?' he asked, intrigued that there may be a good story behind it.

"Nothing," Dean mumbled.

"It looks nasty. Did it hurt?" Owen said. He was like a dog with a bone. He wasn't giving up.

"I don't remember," Dean said, hoping the guy would let it go. Unfortunately, he didn't and it caught the coach's attention.

"Okay, in the pool," the coach ordered the class. "Winchester, I need to speak with you."

"Great," Dean grumbled under this breath. _What now? "_Yes sir," he said respectably.

"Do you have a heart condition we should be aware of?"

"No sir."

"You had surgery on your heart," Coach Haffner pointed out.

_Well, duh! _"It was nine years ago," Dean protested. "I'm fine."

"Still, this is something that should be on your school records. What if something went wrong? The school would be held responsible."

"I swear, I'm fine," Dean insisted. "There was never a problem with my heart. They just had to fill in a hole."

"That's a very serious condition. I can't allow you to participate in gym class until you bring in a note from your doctor that says you are medically fit. I could lose my job if I let you play and something happened. You can get changed and go to the study hall."

Dean was dumbfounded. Was this guy serious? He didn't have a doctor. His father only went to them when it was a life threatening emergency. Not to mention that his dad wasn't here to even make an appointment. "I'm okay, Coach Haffner. I promise."

"No, I can't take a chance."

"But..."

"Mr. Winchester, do you want to report to the detention hall after school?"

"No," Dean said immediately. He just grabbed his towel and stalked off toward the dressing room, once again feeling all eyes on him.

-------

Dean hadn't minded study hall too badly because it gave him a chance to get his homework done, but the next day was as bad as he had feared it would be. When he took a seat with Owen and the others in the cafeteria, they all started asking him questions. Did it hurt? What had happened? What was it like?

The young hunter knew they didn't mean any harm, and were just naturally curious, but he hated talking about it. He had only been four and apart from the breathing tube, he could remember his mother sitting by his bed just talking about nonsense for hours on end to keep him calm. Dean didn't want to talk about his mother.

"I had a heart transplant," Dean lied. "I was the first patient for an experimental procedure where they replaced my heart with a baboon's."

"Come on, Dean," Owen prompted.

"Okay. Did you ever see the show Inspector Gadget? They wanted to see if they could really get it to work in a real life human," Dean replied.

"What's the big deal?" Owen asked sounding a bit hurt. "How come you don't want to tell us?"

"It's not a big deal," Dean said with a shrug of his shoulders. "I was born with a hole in my heart, the doctors filled it in. I got a scar for my trouble. Yes, it hurt, but they kept me sedated most of the time so I don't remember a whole lot."

"See that wasn't a big deal, was it?" one of the other guys said.

"I don't like talking about it," Dean said honestly when he could see the others gearing up for a Q&A. "I gotta go," he said making his escape.

When Dean reported to study hall, his coach came into see him, and asked him about when he could get his medical clearance.

Dean mumbled something about his doctor being on vacation.

"You need to get it as soon as possible."

"I'll have my dad call his office again," Dean replied. He didn't know what to do. His dad was hunting and he was forbidden to contact him unless it was an emergency. He knew his coach would keep asking until he brought in the clearance, though.

When he got home, he did the only thing he could think of. He called Bobby. As always, Bobby had come through. 5 days later, Dean's note came in the mail.

He held his breath as his coach read the note from Dr. Singer. He didn't relax until Coach Haffner told him he could participate in gym class again.

Dean thought his problems were over, but his coach seemed like he was afraid to let Dean push himself. When they played floor hockey, Dean found himself in net. When a ball hit him in the chest, the coach made him go to the nurse.

Because the coach was treating him so delicately, Dean found the other guys were as well. If they played kickball, he often found himself being the umpire. He was quickly getting frustrated.

He didn't think he was ever so glad to see his father come home. John didn't even have any trouble getting the full story out of Dean. He pounced on his dad before he even had time to put his duffle bag down.

"Please dad," he all but begged. "There must be something you can do?"

"I spoke to doctors, son," John replied. "They say there's nothing they can do."

"What if I hadn't been able to get a hold of Bobby to send that note? What if the school had tried to call you? What if they called social services?" Dean was getting more worked up by the minute.

"Calm down," John said firmly. Dean could make himself hyperventilate if he got upset enough. "You could have called me. From now on, we'll make any potential threat from social services an emergency."

"Okay," Dean agreed. "Thanks."

"Now, let me make a few calls. I'll see if there's anything that can be done," John said. They both knew he wasn't referring to doctors.

"Thanks, dad."

"Don't get you hopes up. It may not be possible."

"I know you'll find something," Dean said, his tone indicating he truly believed there was nothing his dad couldn't do.

"Now go get your brother, we'll go out for supper."

"Awesome," Dean replied as he went to get Sammy.

---------

_**PRESENT**_

"It wasn't easy, but I managed to find someone. I, um, needed someone who was willing to do it free as my medical coverage didn't cover elective procedures," John lied smoothly. It was actually a special type of paste that John had gotten off a voodoo priestess. He suppressed a shudder. He didn't like to use it because it was very painful. That had been two of the roughest days he had ever spent when he put that stuff on his son's chest. Dean refused to give in though. It had been even tougher dealing with Sam. His youngest kept glaring at him as if he was the one that was causing Dean pain. There was no way he was sharing that story with Dean's nurse though.

"He's a tough kid," Cindy agreed.

"Yeah," John said his voice full of pride.

"He..." Cindy started to say something when she stopped abruptly.

John felt his heart seize in his chest as one of Dean's monitors started beeping frantically.

TBC

Please make my day and read and review.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

A/N: Sorry for the delay. It was a combination of real life, writers block and compture problems. I want to thank Soar for the beta job. Any left over mistakes are my own. Thanks again to JuliaAurelia and Sinead-Conlan for their feedback and encourgement.

Fear ran through every fiber of John's being when Dean's monitor started beeping frantically. His attention immediately turned to the screens that Dean's many wires were attached to. His eyes were drawn to the numbers, desperately trying to pinpoint what was wrong. Although Cindy had explained the numbers to him many times, it had always gone over John's head.

"What's going on?" he begged worriedly. Dean had to be alright, he just had to be. He had almost lost Sam to this whole nightmare, and now he could lose Dean. "Do something," John all but ordered.

"I need you to step out of the room for a minute," Cindy requested, as she pressed the call button to summon Dr. Scott.

"No!," John protested fiercely. "Just tell me what's going on." _Damned doctors and their need to know crap. _The irony of that sentence was completely lost on the elder hunter.

"It looks like his oxygen levels have dropped. Please John, just let me do my job," Cindy said trying to reassure the distraught father.

"What's going on?" John asked trying to keep his panic at bay. He realized that he was failing miserably. He was fighting every instinct he had to keep himself from grabbing the nurse and shaking the information out of her.

"I don't know," Cindy replied honestly. Her tone was gentle but firm. "You'll know as soon as I do, but right now, I need to do my job. I need you to step outside."

John stood helplessly as he watched Cindy fiddle with the dials on the controls behind Dean's bed. "Talk to me," he begged again.

"John, I promise, I'm not hiding anything from you. You need to let me work." Cindy was fighting her own temptation to tell John that he was making things worse. "Step outside," she requested again. Her tone was firm and John suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and he found himself being dragged toward the door. Cindy opened the sliding glass door and before he knew it, John found himself on the outside. He couldn't believe he'd just been manhandled by a 5'4 nurse. Not only that, he was now "contaminated" and he couldn't go back into Dean's room until he went through the whole sterilization routine again.

He was in the anteroom when Dr. Scott showed up and quickly donned the protective coverings. John tried getting information out of him, but the doctor gave the standard answer, that he would know as soon as he found out.

John tried to watch through the window but Cindy pulled the curtain shut, frustrating John immensely, and before he knew what he was doing, he hauled off and punched the wall.

Pain flared in his hand and up his whole arm. Not caring in the least that he had probably broken something, John sat down heavily, dropping his head into his hands and he found himself doing something he hadn't done in a long time. Praying.

_I know I don't have any business asking for anything. It's just that Dean, well he doesn't deserve this. Just watch over him. Make him okay. He has to be okay. _

It wasn't long after that when Sam and Bobby showed up and they found John sitting slumped over in his chair. He was still dressed head to toe in the protective coverings.

"What's going on?" Bobby asked sounding very worried.

"Dad?" Sam asked, sounding very young and just as worried as Bobby.

"I don't know," John stammered. "One of the alarms went off and Cindy said something about his oxygen level dropping."

"Damn it," Bobby swore. "Johnny, are you sure you're okay?" he asked. He'd just taken a good look at his friend and he was suddenly almost as worried about John as he was about his son. Dean had more color than John did right now. He hadn't left the hospital in 3 days, and Bobby knew that he'd had little to eat or drink in that whole time. He'd had maybe 12 hours sleep in the last few days, and what little he had gotten was in a highly uncomfortable chair outside Dean's room, or a small lumpy couch in the ward waiting room when they kicked him out. He had tried to warn John that it was going to catch up with him, but as usual, the other man had been too stubborn to listen.

"Fine," John mumbled dismissively. He finally seemed to realize that he still had the protective mask over his face. He reached up and tore it off.

"He'll be fine," Sam said reassuringly. He hoped he had sounded confident. He couldn't let himself think otherwise. Especially since it was his bone marrow that was in Dean right now. _Oh God! Was this his fault? _

"How much more can he take?" John replied softly.

"John..."

"No Bobby, don't okay? Just don't. I have to go back in there." John stood up and ripped off the rest of his coverings, walked over to the sink and started sterilizing himself again. He had to work hard to be able to walk in a straight line.

"John..." Bobby started as John got up. His worry level increased when John staggered a bit. He was headed for a crash, but one glance at Sam and Bobby realized that they had another problem on their hands. He recognized guilt whenever he saw it and Sam had a huge amount of it going on. The poor boy had to be blaming himself. Bobby had three Winchesters in the middle of a crisis. He wished he could clone himself to be able to help all of them.

It was at this point that the curtain was pulled back, and Cindy and Dr. Scott walked out of the room.

"He's al..." That was as far as John got before he slid to the floor in a boneless heap.

"Told ya so, idjit," Bobby quipped.

-------

Cindy immediately called for help and they got John loaded onto a gurney. Dr. Scott let Sam and Bobby know that Dean was stable at the moment, while he tended to the fallen Winchester. His initial assessment was that John wasn't suffering from anything more than exhaustion and dehydration, but he wanted to run some blood work to be sure. Cindy volunteered to go with John and come back to give them an update as soon as she had one.

"Sam, Bobby, have a seat," Dr. Scott indicated the chairs behind him. Both immediately felt their anxiety increase. They never asked you to sit down for good news.

"How's Dean?" they immediately asked.

"He is stable as I mentioned. What happened is that when his oxygen levels dropped below a certain level, his monitor went off. We turned up the volume to stabilize him."

"What aren't you telling us?" Sam questioned worriedly. He could clearly hear the unspoken "but." Sam decided that he really and truly hated that word.

"Dean's still struggling to keep his oxygen levels up. His body is focusing on that, and it's putting a strain on his other organs, mainly his heart."

"His heart? That sounds really bad." Bobby could feel his blood pressure shooting through the roof, along with his anxiety and fear.

"It's not good, but right now, his heart is strong, and I don't think his previous heart problems will be an issue."

"What happens now?' Sam asked.

"I can't," Bobby said suddenly. He knew what the doctor was about to say. "I promised him I wouldn't."

"What's going on?" Sam asked looking at Bobby in confusion.

"They want to put your brother on a ventilator, Sam," Bobby said angrily. He wasn't mad at anyone though, just the situation.

Sam looked to the doctor for confirmation. Dr. Scott nodded that Bobby was correct.

"How long?" Sam asked.

"It would be a day to day thing. I can't say for sure," he said honestly.

"I promised him," Bobby repeated again, talking to himself more than anyone.

"I know this is a difficult decision to make," Dr. Scott replied sympathetically. "If it helps, the vent will be set on assist. He'll still be breathing on his own, but the vent will take over if he needs help. The thing you do need to be aware of, though, is that he could become dependent on it. Bobby, I understand that you have Dean's medical power of attorney, but I think this is a decision you should make as a family."

"Thanks," Bobby replied grateful that Dr. Scott was honest with them.

"I'll leave you to discuss this. I'm going to go check on John."

"What are you going to do?" Sam immediately asked when Dr. Scott left.

"I don't know," Bobby replied honestly. "I want Dean to recover, but he trusted me with this."

"Maybe we should discuss it with dad?" Sam suggested half-heartedly. He knew it wouldn't be a discussion. John would simply order that it be done. It was the reason Dean had chosen Bobby, because he knew that he would be the one most likely to respect his wishes. "Never mind."

"What's your opinion?" Bobby asked sincerely.

"I don't know," Sam said honestly. "He is my brother and I don't want anything to happen to him. Plus it's my bone marrow..."

"STOP IT!" Bobby cut him off angrily. "No matter what the outcome, it's not your fault!" he finished emphatically. "Sam, without you, Dean probably wouldn't have made it this far. Don't forget that. Not to mention that Dean would seriously kick your ass for even considering it, ya idjit."

"I know," Sam admitted reluctantly. It still didn't change the fact that he felt guilty. "No matter what me and Dad want, it's ultimately your decision."

"I don't..."

"What?" Sam encouraged when Bobby hesitated.

"Every instinct is telling me to let the doctor do this." Sam could clearly hear his least favourite word about to emerge from Bobby's lips. "But it's so obvious how Dean would feel, and I'm supposed to be representing what he would want. It's what he asked me to do. I know how angry he would be at me." Bobby stopped, reached up and pulled his trucker hat off his head and wrung it in his hands like he was trying to squeeze the life out of it. "Why did I agree to this? I can't do this. I can't make this decision," he mumbled under his breath.

It was so strange for Sam to see Bobby looking so lost, or so unsure of himself. Hell, he was the one person who could get John Winchester to listen to reason, on occasion. Sam got up and sat down next to the older man. He reached up and laid a hand on Bobby's shoulder, trying to comfort him like Bobby had done for all of them so many times. "I don't envy you having to make this decision. Knowing what Dean would want, versus what we all want. The thing with Dean is that he doesn't always make the best decisions concerning himself."

"Tell me something I don't know," Bobby agreed.

"You know my feelings on this. I want you to give the doctor permission," Sam said honestly. "This reminds me of the time Dean graduated from high school."

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" Bobby asked in confusion.

"Because if it had been up to Dean, he would have dropped out the second he turned 16. I remember I used to get so mad at him because he wouldn't stand up to dad. Always did what dad told him to. School was the only thing I ever saw them argue about."

"You're still not making a lot of sense here," Bobby replied.

"Have you ever heard of a guy named Jed Stuart?"

"The quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys?"

"Yeah. Did you know that he went to our school? He and Dean graduated together."

"So Dean knows a famous quarterback, maybe he can get us some tickets for the Superbowl when he gets out of here, but Sam, you have really lost me now."

"Just bear with me a minute here, okay?" Sam said a little impatiently. "You're worse than dad. The point I'm trying to make is that if dad had let Dean drop out of school, the Cowboys wouldn't have their star quarterback, and most likely wouldn't have won."

"If I understand you correctly, Dean not dropping out of school led to the Cowboy's winning the Superbowl? You're going to need a good one to make me believe that."

"And I'll tell you, if you would just shut up for a minute," Sam huffed. "You say dad has no patience."

"Sorry," Bobby said sincerely. He hadn't meant to snap at Sam. It was just that if he had information that would help him make a decision, Bobby wanted to hear it.

--------

_**1998**_

14 year old Sam Winchester impatiently checked his watch and then glanced back into the doors of Woodburn High School, looking for his brother, and huffed a sigh of annoyance when he didn't see any sign of him. Their father had told him that he would be about 10 minutes late picking them up because he had a job interview, and they were to be waiting for him in front of the school, or else, because he would have just enough time to drop them off and head to another interview he had scheduled.

So far, their dad was five minutes past the time he had said that he would pick them up, and Sam knew that was going to put him in a seriously pissed off mood. Being on time was a habit John still had left over from the marines. So if their dad had to wait longer for Dean, then it was really going to irritate him, and Sam wanted his dad's permission to try out for the soccer team. The permission slips had to be in tomorrow at the latest.

Sam checked his watch and then looked down the road for the Impala, and then back over his shoulder for Dean. He was getting mad himself now. There was no sign of either one. Why the hell couldn't he and Dean have just walked to their motel? It was a 10 minute walk, tops, and John wouldn't have had to be so rushed.

They had been bouncing from town to town, one hunt after another, with no signs of it slowing down. 3 months into the new school year, and they had already been in four schools. It had started to take its toll on Sam's work and it was playing havoc with Dean's.

With the threat of Dean having to repeat yet another year, John finally decided to take things seriously, and he settled them in a little hole in the wall town in Iowa, and promised they would be there until Dean graduated. John even said that he was going to get a job and rent them an apartment.

A month later, he was still trying. Since the town was so small, there weren't that many openings. Sam wanted his father to find a job desperately. The motel room and supplies had to be paid for with cash, since they couldn't risk using the fraudulent credits cards. They could only afford one motel room, and two teenagers and one grumpy ex-marine in one room for a month, were causing tempers to flare.

To anyone that knew the Winchesters, they would have been surprised to find that it was John and Dean who were constantly at each other's throats, rather than Sam and his father.

Sam figured that school had a lot to do with Dean's attitude of late. The school had taken one look at his grades and records and had put him in a mentoring program. He took regular academic classes, but instead of study hall, and for 3 hours on Fridays, he and other students in the program met in the resource room where tutors went over their work and gave extra help in areas needed.

The younger hunter actually thought the program was pretty cool, but it went without saying that Dean disagreed.

A honk brought Sam out of his thoughts and he saw the impala pulling up next to the curb. Sam glanced over his shoulder, praying that his brother would appear in the next 10 seconds as he slowly made his way to the curb.

When he reached the shiny, black classic he did not want to get into that car. Dean was still nowhere to be seen. A quick peek at his watch and Sam knew that there was no way John wasn't going to be late to his next interview, and with still no sign of Dean...

"Where the hell is your brother?" a voice growled by way of greeting as Sam got into the car.

"I..." Sam paused as he tried to think of an excuse.

"Never mind," John snapped, clearly irritated. "Get in the front," he ordered.

Sam never sat in the front. Their father had made both of them sit in the back until Dean was 11 and he completed his first salt and burn. Dean had gotten to ride up front as a reward, and ever since then, it had been his place. He really didn't think this was a good idea, as Dean would take it personally. "I don't..."

"I don't remember asking for your opinion. Get your ass in the front seat," John finished in a tone that even Sam wouldn't argue with.

Knowing that he had no choice but to comply, Sam got out of the back and climbed in next to his dad. "How did your interview go?" Sam asked hoping to break the tension. His father was wound so tight, one more thing was going to make him explode.

"Fine," John said dismissively as he continued to scan the schoolyard for his wayward, elder son. Not seeing him, John pulled out his cell phone and called the guy he had an interview with. He told the potential employer that something had come up and could they reschedule? He hadn't been happy when he hung up, and Sam guessed that was one job opportunity that was closed to his father.

"There he is," Sam said as he finally spied his brother coming out of the front doors. He immediately cringed. A slow, red flush had crept up John's cheeks, and Sam could see the vein in his father's forehead started pulsing, and if he didn't know better, Sam would swear that he could see smoke coming out of his father's ears. John Winchester was beyond pissed, and Sam was very glad that he wasn't in his brother's shoes right now.

There was a girl who was walking out next to his brother, and both Winchesters guessed that Dean had kept them waiting while he flirted with some girl. Both watched as the girl said something to Dean and laughed. Sam did take note that Dean scowled at whatever she had said to him. Before he could really think about it, another boy that Sam recognized as the school quarterback came up to them and also said something to his brother that caused the girl to laugh harder. _Great, so Dean was flirting with Jed Stuart's girlfriend. That was going to end well._

Sam watched as his brother approached the car. He saw the way Dean froze for just a split second when he spied Sam in the front seat, before he climbed into the back of the car. Even if Dean had a good explanation as to why he was late, they'd never hear it now.

"What's for dinner?" Dean asked casually.

Sam was really surprised that their father didn't stroke out. "Did you, or did you not hear me tell you to be waiting for me in the front of the school?"

Dean didn't answer, he just grabbed his back pack and started rooting around in it.

"DEAN!" John said, clearly exasperated. "Are you even listening to me?"

"I'm checking my date book to see where I was supposed to be after school," Dean said flippantly.

John slowly counted to 10 and was really glad that he had told Sam to get into the front seat. He knew what sitting in the front represented to Dean, but he needed that distance. He had to keep his temper in check. "Never mind, I know where you were," John said furiously. "I got a call from your guidance counsellor, right in the middle of my interview."

"Maybe she just wanted to tell you what an awesome kid you've got," Dean suggested.

_Patience, John, patience._ "Is this all a joke to you?" John replied angrily. "I told you that I had another interview and with this little stunt you pulled, I had to call and reschedule, and let me tell you, he sounded less than impressed and said he would call me back to reschedule, and you know what that means. Then, I find out the reason your late is that you were messing around with some bimbo. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"I was a bad boy. Maybe you should send me to my room. Oh wait, that's right, I don't have one," Dean replied sarcastically.

"We all know whose fault that is, don't we?" John said callously. He would rather shoot himself before he would strike his children, but right now, he was seriously considering rethinking his no spanking policy. Finally making a decision, he drove to the library. "Get out," he growled at his eldest.

"What?" Dean asked in a bit of confusion.

"The library closes at 9. Go study. I'll be back for you then."

"But it's only 4 now," Dean protested.

"Sam, you go with him," John said ignoring Dean. He didn't trust himself to speak to his eldest child at this time.

"I don't need a babysitter," Dean said indignantly.

"You should have thought of that before," John grumbled.

"Fine, come on, Sammy. You can make sure the dumbass isn't too stupid to find the door."

"Dean, what the hell has gotten into you?" John asked. He was still angry, but right now he was concerned. He wasn't used to Dean acting like this, and quite frankly, he was at a loss as to how to handle it.

"Nothing," Dean insisted. "I'm just too..."

"Finish that sentence and I swear you won't sit comfortably for a month, and if you think this little stunt is going to convince me to let you drop out, well guess what, it's not. You're going to school until you graduate, even if it takes you until you're 30, and at the rate you're going, it just might," John snapped unthinkingly.

The second those words left John's mouth, he wanted to take them back. He knew he had gone too far. Even Sam was now glaring at him. "Dean I..." John tried. He stopped. How exactly did he take that back?

"Forget it, dad. I'm not allowed to say how stupid I am, but you are. I get it. I'll be here at nine. I think I can manage that. It's when the big hand is on the 9 and the little hand is on the 12, right?"

"Dean..."

But Dean had already gotten out and slammed the door. "I'm sorry to leave you with this, Sammy," John said apologetically.

"You need to be careful what you say," Sam admonished his father. "I'll talk to him, dad, see if I can find out what's really bugging him."

"Thanks, Sammy."

As Sam got out, John put his key in the ignition and started up the car. Just before he could pull away, something was flung in the window and hit him in the chest. He looked up and saw Dean standing there. The expression on his face broke John's heart.

"My teacher wanted you to sign those. That's why I was late, she wanted to discuss them with me. It's why my guidance counsellor wanted to see you," he said hurt coloring his tone. He didn't wait for John to answer before he stalked off.

John grabbed the papers that had landed on the bench seat and looked at them. One was an essay on the Revolutionary War that had earned an A-, an English test that had earned a B+ and a math test Dean had scored a 98 on. If he didn't feel like an ass already... John didn't need to finish that thought.

------

The 5 minute drive to the hotel seemed like hours to John. He couldn't believe that he had let things escalate so badly. He knew that Dean had been trying to make him mad, and he should have been the bigger man and refused to take the bait. Now he had no clue what to do. Dean would _**never**_ talk to him now.

He couldn't say he was surprised when the phone rang 15 minutes later.

_**RING RING**_

"Hello," John said warily.

"Dad," a small voice said.

"Sammy?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Um, Dean... he... that is... well..."

"Dean left the library?" John guessed.

"Yeah. It was strange."

That wasn't want John was expecting. "What's happened?" he asked in concern.

"Well, we went in and we got a table. Dean wouldn't say anything, but he had his books out and he was working. I got up to go find some books for a project and I saw those kids from the school, the ones we saw Dean walk out with. They were talking to him, but I wasn't close enough to hear what he had to say."

"It's okay, Sammy."

"They left when they saw me coming back over to Dean. I sat down, and Dean told me to tell you that he would get himself back to the hotel. Then he grabbed his jacket and left. He also, um..." Sam hesitated, not really wanting to tell his dad what Dean had said next.

"What is it, Sammy?" John asked in a resigned tone.

"He said to leave his books here because he didn't need them anymore. That he was..."

"It's okay, Sammy. I can guess what he said. I'm going to go look for him. Do you want to stay there, or do you want to come with me?"

There was a project that Sam needed to finish, but he knew he'd never be able to concentrate, so it would be useless to stay here. Plus, Sam figured Dean might need a witness when John got a hold of him. He gathered up his books and Dean's and headed outside to meet his father.

--------

It didn't take long for them to track down Dean. It really didn't help matters that John found his son coming out of the liquor store with a six pack in his hands.

The ride back to the motel was one of the most uncomfortable things Sam had ever experienced. It was the loudest silence Sam had ever heard. He just wished that someone would say something. He'd even welcome one of Dean's smart ass comments.

A quick glance at their father and Sam was shocked to see no signs of anger coming from him. He looked tired and worried, and he kept shooting concerned looks in the mirror at his eldest son. Dean was leaning back against the seat with his arms crossed over his chest. His head was turned toward the window, staring at the scenery that went by.

It wasn't a scene that Sam was familiar with. He was normally the one who was drawing his father's ire. He wasn't sure what to do now that he wasn't.

---------

"I'm not going."

"Yes, you are."

It was the first thing that Sam heard when he woke up the next morning. Groaning silently, Sam pulled the pillow over his head and hoped that Dean and his father didn't notice he was awake. It didn't appear that they had paid any attention to him as the argument continued.

"No!"

"Dean, so help me..."

"What? Are you going to ground me?"

"Where do you ever go that it would make any difference?"

"I'm so sorry I'm not a social butterfly like Sammy is. It that another thing I screwed up?"

"Knock that crap off this minute!"

"Why is it okay for you to say it?"

Sam groaned again, louder this time. Damn it, why did their father have to put his foot in his mouth every God damned time? He should have known to back off, but John never did.

"I don't think you're stupid. Don't," John growled, cutting off whatever it was Dean had to say. "I never did. So unless you can give me a good reason as to why you should stay home, you _**are**_ going to school today." John paused, coming just short of praying that Dean would take the opening John gave him.

"Fine," Dean huffed. "Sammy, get your ass out of bed. The master has spoken." With that, Dean walked over and smacked Sam's foot, hard.

"OW! Hey, quit it," Sam replied sitting up and rubbing the spot where Dean had hit him.

"I'm gonna go wait in the car," Dean huffed.

"It's still an..." John trailed off. In his current state, reminding Dean that they still had 45 minutes before they had to leave would not go over well.

"Sam," John addressed his youngest son after Dean had slammed the door. "Has Dean said anything to you, _**anything**_ at all?"

"No, you know how he gets. He won't talk to anyone unless he's ready. He'll tell you eventually, right?" Sam asked sounding very unsure. "It's Dean." Sam wasn't sure if he was trying to convince his father or himself.

"When he's ready," John said softly. The problem was that it could take months. Dean needed to feel safe and secure before he was ready to talk about anything. Even then, it was still like pulling teeth and with the thoughtless comments John had made earlier, he didn't think Dean would ever trust him again.

-------

Whoever wrote the saying that things get worse before they get better obviously had the Winchesters in mind. John's meeting with Dean's guidance counsellor was not what he had expected. Apparently, she wanted to let him know how pleased she was with Dean's progress, and to let him know that Dean's math scores on the SAT were above average, and if he continued his current improvement, she felt there was a real possibility that Dean might have been able to get a conditional acceptance into college, if he wanted to go.

5 days later, he was back in her office trying to deflect her questions as to what was going on with his eldest son. She said his grades had taken a sudden nose dive and did he know why Dean appeared to have stopped trying overnight. John made up some BS story and said he would talk to his son and get him back on track.

He never had the chance because everything came to a head that afternoon. Even John knew what happened because it was the talk of the town for weeks.

--------

Dean Winchester walked into the locker room for gym class that day. He was so not in a good mood. He had just come from flunking a pop quiz in geography and had been sorely tempted to skip, but they were doing a wrestling unit and Dean was in the mood to kick some ass. This gave him a good place to do it and not get into trouble. It was a win-win situation for the young hunter and he was really hoping that the coach would partner him with Jed Stuart.

Jed Stuart.

It was him who was making Dean's life a living hell at this school. He was the leader of the football team and the guy was a walking stereotype of a star athlete. He was dating the head cheerleader and he was a conceited jerk who thought he deserved special treatment, and he got it, from students and teachers alike. There was only one thing about the guy that wasn't a cliché. In most movies and books, Jed would have been in the mentoring program right beside him, but Jed was an honor roll student and he never let anyone forget it.

Dean wasn't Jed's only target, but he seemed to his main one, and he was never sure why. Maybe it was because for the most part, Dean didn't fight back and that made him an easy target. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but he had learned the hard way what happens when you messed with the school's favourite son. He was a few months from freedom and nothing was going to mess that up. Unless he flunked again. Which seemed to be a real possibility. Even his dad had thought so.

"Hey, Winchester."

"Leave me alone, Jed," Dean said warily. He was not in the mood for this. He doubted his ability to keep his temper in check.

"I bet you failed that test last period. Keep this up and you'll be the first person to flunk out of special education. That takes a special kind of stupid. Doesn't it, guys?" He asked his best friends Albert Kimble and Michael Brookes.

"Yeah. I'm surprised you managed to find your way to the gym," Michael said.

"Ha Ha. That was so funny I forgot to laugh," Dean mumbled sarcastically.

"I'm amazed you know what the word laugh means," Albert joked.

Jed glared at his friend. "That's my line, idiot," he said giving Albert a shove.

Albert was in the mentoring program with Dean and he really didn't like it when someone started in on him. "I'm not an idiot like Winchester here. You're a jerk," Albert said angrily and returned Jed's shove.

"Am not," Jed fired back and this time he pushed Albert, hard.

"Hey," the big man protested. Albert was built like the linebacker he was and he retaliated. Jed went down.

"Hey," Jed said in surprise. He scrambled up off the floor quickly. "You belong in the dummy class with Winchester," Jed fired as he pushed Albert again.

Dean could see where this was going as spats with Sam like this had escalated into full blown brawls. The problem was that it was a locker room. It was full of other guys, and lockers, and benches and chairs, and there was no room to get into a knockdown, drag out fight without risking someone getting seriously hurt.

"Hey, I think you two..."

"Don't think, Winchester," Michael cut him off. "You don't want to hurt yourself." He was eager to see a fight.

"But..." It was as far as Dean got.

Albert had launched himself at Jed and both fell. The problem was that when Jed fell, his side impacted with a bench, and as he pulled Albert down, the bigger boy ended up with his elbow landing squarely on Jed's injured side.

Dean could swear that he heard the crack of Jed's ribs from where he was standing.

"Oh, God! Jed, I'm sorry," Albert suddenly cried sharply as he got up, and Jed didn't. "Come on, get up," he begged. He was sounding frantic.

Dean reacted instantly. He ran over to the fallen quarterback, knelt beside him and lifted up his shirt. He could see a dark blue and purple bruise forming along Jed's side. He quickly ran a hand down his side and confirmed his suspicions that Jed's ribs were broken. He just really hoped that they hadn't punctured something. "Get the nurse," Dean screamed to the boys standing around him.

"Hey, get away from him, you dummy," Albert said pushing Dean's hands off his friend. "Jed, get up, come on. Please."

_Crap, Crap, Crap. This was so not good. Dean thought. _The area around Jed's lips had taken on a bluish tinge.

"What the hell is going on in here?" An angry voice called out.

"Coach Abrams," someone called out. "Jed's hurt."

The coach immediately ran to Jed's side. "David, go get the nurse, and someone call, 911. _**HURRY!"**_

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see someone run out of the room. Kneeling, the coach let out an impressive set of four letter words when he noticed the blue around Jed's lips. He immediately cupped his hands and placed them on Jed's sternum to start CPR.

"No, don't," Dean cried and knocked the coach's hands away. He lowered his head towards Jed's chest, and as he suspected, there was no breath sounds. _Crap, this was so not good. _He got up and ran for his backpack.

_"_Winchester," the coach admonished.

"He's got a broken rib, mostly likely it punctured his lung. CPR is going to make it worse."

"Are you a doctor?" the coach yelled.

"Yeah, right! Everybody knows Winchester can't spell the word," Michael called out.

"Brooks, you're not helping," the coach cried.

Dean did know what to do. He and Sam had spent a whole summer with Joshua. He was a doctor, but also a hunter, and he had taught both Sam and Dean the hunter version of emergency first aid. He had his backpack open and he grabbed his pen, a bottle of water and his butterfly knife. His dad was going to kill him for this, but he couldn't let the guy die.

He was gone about 30 seconds, and the coach had taken that opportunity to try and begin CPR again. He was panicking because the blue around Jed's lips was getting darker, and seemed to have spread to his nail beds.

"Don't," Dean ordered firmly and again knocked the coach's hands away from Jed.

"Winchester," the coach said clearly frustrated. "What the hell are you doing? He can't breathe."

"I know that, sir," Dean replied. "His lung's punctured. The pressure has to be relieved before it stops his heart. Hold him down." He quickly pulled the ink out of the pen and poured water over the empty tube, his hands, and the knife. He wished that he had something to sterilize it with, but this would have to do. "Hold him down," Dean ordered again. He quickly found the spot on Jed's chest and was about to make a cut with his knife.

"HEY!" This time it was Coach Abrams, Michael and Albert who shouted.

"My dad..."

"Get away from him," Albert said and he pushed Dean. "You can't even pass a test. There's no way I'm letting you near my friend."

Being off balance, Dean fell back and his head connected with the corner of the bench. He felt a small trickle of blood run down the side of his head and it began to throb painfully.

With his adrenaline flowing, Dean shook it off and immediately went back to Jed's side. He had to act quickly. He saw Albert step toward him again. This time Dean was ready and when the bigger boy pushed him, Dean didn't move. "My dad was a medic in Vietnam. Me and my brother go hunting with him all the time and he taught us everything he knows. I know what I'm doing. Now hold him the hell down or you're going to be attending his funeral." Dean's voice sounded exactly like John Winchester's, and he guessed that's why both Albert, Michael and the coach complied with his orders.

The problem was that Dean's confidence was shaken to its very core. He was just a kid in Special Ed and he was flunking. He was way behind in everything. Had Joshua's lessons really sunk in?

He couldn't think about that now. Everyone was staring at him. Dean focused all his concentration on Jed and thought about if it was Sam laying there. He quickly found the correct spot on Jed's chest and made a small cut. A few minutes later Dean had the pen tube in the cut and pulled off the cap. There was an audible hiss and the skin around Jed's lips immediately started to pink up.

"Hold this," Dean instructed the coach. "Don't let it move."

He got up, just as the paramedics and nurse came bursting into room.

"Who did this?" one of the paramedics demanded.

"One of my students," Coach Abrams confirmed. He knew he should never have let the kid do this. He would be lucky if Jed survived and he wasn't fired.

"It was quick thinking. Probably saved the kid's life," the paramedic told the surprised teacher.

-------

The coach cleared the locker room quickly as the paramedics loaded Jed onto a stretcher. He walked over to his pupil, who was sitting on a bench in the locker room.

"Good work, Dean." he said sincerely. "Hey, are _**you**_, alright?" he asked sincerely. Dean looked awfully pale, and there was still a small trickle of blood running down the side of his head. Dean's hands were also shaking.

"I... I'm fin... I think I'm going to be sick." With that, Dean lost everything that was in his stomach.

"It's okay," the coach said gently as he laid a hand on Dean's back.

"The knife..." Dean felt he had to explain. "I wasn't..."

"What knife? Come on. I want a doctor to look at that cut."

--------

"My son, where is he?" John said as he burst through the doors at the hospital. He didn't know anything. The school had called John, told him Dean had been taken to the hospital, but he had hung up before they could tell him what was wrong.

"Who's your son?" the admitting clerk asked.

"Dean..."

"Oh, the little hero. He's in exam one. You must be proud."

_Huh! _"Ah, yeah." John had no idea what she was talking about. He decided he didn't care and made his way to the room the clerk pointed out.

He found Dean sitting on a gurney, with Sam sitting next to him. A doctor was just finishing taping a small bandage on Dean's forehead. John took stock of his son, he seemed a little ashen but otherwise he looked fine.

"I'm Doctor Manning," the physician greeted John. "You must be Mr. Winchester."

"Yeah, what happened?" he asked.

"Dean's fine. No stitches, just a couple of butterfly bandages. You must be so proud," Dr. Manning repeated the clerk's words. "Anyway, there's no concussion so you can take him home."

"Sam, Dean, what happened?" John asked after the doctor left.

"Noth..." Dean started to say only to be cut off by his little brother.

"Dean saved Jed's life," Sam said excitedly. He was so proud of his brother and the whole story came pouring out.

"Dean, I..." John started feeling the pride everyone else was.

"I'm not a hero. I was so scared. I was afraid I was going to..." He stopped abruptly when he felt himself swept into his father's strong arms.

"Hey, that's _**nothing**_ to be ashamed of. You didn't let that fear control you."

"I didn't think I could do it," Dean confessed.

"But you did. That's all that matters."

"I could have kil..."

"Don't Dean," Sam replied. "You saved Jed's life. That's all that matters. You knew what do," Sam said confidently.

"Exactly," John agreed.

"But I'm just some st..."

"Don't Dean. Not now, please," John requested. "I spoke in anger. I do not now or ever did think you were stupid. You're one of the smartest kids I know, and I'd pick you to save my life any day of the week and twice on Sunday."

"But my grades... Jed, he... he always called me stupid and dumb for being in the special kids class," Dean stammered.

"Guess he's gonna have to eat his words now," John said with grin. Dean didn't return it. "What's wrong, buddy?" He asked as he pulled Dean in a little tighter.

"I'm sorry," Dean said softly. "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting."

"What's wrong?" John asked again, keeping his tone soft and gentle.

Once Dean started talking, he couldn't stop. He told his father about the way Jed and the others kept picking on him, and how he was afraid to do anything about it because he was 19, and legally an adult. He didn't think it would end well for him if he got in a fight with a 17 year old kid, and he remembered what had happened when he had stood up to the football player at his last school, and he didn't want to get expelled again, and he just wanted to finish high school so he could hunt with this father, and that he hoped it wasn't too late because he didn't think he could do it for another year.

"Sam, can you run to the cafeteria for a minute? I need to speak to your brother."

For once, Sam didn't argue. He was just planning on eavesdropping anyway.

"I wish you had told me how you were feeling," John said once he thought Sam was out of earshot.

"I know how badly you want me to finish. I didn't want to let you down."

"I'm the one that let you down," John said contritely. "If I had taken your schooling a bit more seriously, maybe you wouldn't have missed out on getting the basics and you wouldn't be struggling now. You do the best you can."

"But I know that you pulled strings. I probably should only be in grade 10 or something."

"It doesn't matter," John said firmly. "The fact that you're doing so well right now should tell you just how resourceful you are. So what if you don't get perfect test scores. You proved you have what it takes when it counts. Plus, I don't think I've ever seen someone rebuild an engine as fast as you can. You're smart, Dean, and don't let anyone ever tell you anything different."

"I'll try." It was the best he could offer. "Does this mean..."

"No, you're still finishing high school," John said guessing what Dean was going to say. "Sam, I know you're standing behind the door, so you might as well come back in." He paused and waited for his youngest to join them. "Let's go home."

"Hey, dad. Since I'm a hero, can we get pizza?"

John grinned and ruffled Dean's hair. "Sure. I got a call from Joe's Garage. I start work on Monday, so let's go gets some movies too.

-------

_**Present. **_

"Quick thinking," Bobby said to Sam. He was impressed.

"Yeah. The next day, everybody congratulated him for his quick thinking when Dean came to school."

"What happened with him and Jed?"

"They were never best friends, but Jed left him alone, which was good enough for Dean. We actually did stay until Dean graduated. I wish you could see have seen him that day, Bobby. It was rare to see him so proud of himself. The school even gave him a special award at the ceremony. It was so cool. I never told anybody this, but he came to me and told me was glad that dad hadn't let him drop out."

Actually, what Dean had said to his brother was, "I did it, Sammy. There were times when I didn't think I could, and I wanted to give up, but I finished. I wanted to make dad proud. Don't tell anybody I said this, but I'm glad he wouldn't let me quit." Sam had told him brother that he was proud of him too, and Dean made him promise that he would never tell anyone what he said.

"Dean's diploma is sealed in envelope and in his duffle bag. He told me he looks at it when things get tough, so he can remind himself to never give up."

"Thanks for telling me, Sammy. If Dean had quit, not only would he have regretted it for the rest of his life, but he wouldn't have been there to save that boy's life. What you're telling me is to let the doctor put Dean on the vent, because it could save his life, and in turn, he'll be there to save others."

"Yeah," Sam replied. "He's gonna hate it, and he's gonna fight it, but..."

"Sometimes, Dean just needs a kick in the pants to get to where he wants to be in the first place," Bobby finished for Sam.

"Yeah, and if there is one thing I know that Dean wants more than anything, it's to get out of this hospital."

"Sam, Bobby," Cindy said stepping into the room. "John's awake and cranky as a bear." Both Bobby and Sam grinned at that. "Do you want to discuss Dr. Scott's request with him?"

Bobby walked over to the window and looked in on Dean's sleeping form. "No need," he said. "Just go get the damn paperwork before I change my mind."

TBC

Please read and review and keep my muse happy.


	26. Chapter 26

A.N: Thanks again to Soar, JuliaAurelia and Sinead-Conlan. This chapter is a little different. It starts out in the past and ends in present.

Chapter 26

Disclaimer: Still don't own.

_**1989, Singer Salvage**_

"Bobby. Uncle Bobby," two excited voices could be heard shouting across the expansive yard.

A big grin erupted on the face of the grizzled mechanic. He immediately dropped the wrench he was using to tighten a bolt on the old trans-am he was working on, and turned around to find two little boys running toward him. He went to meet them, scooped them both up at once, and gave them a great big hug. "Hey boys. This is an unexpected treat." Looking up, he could see the boys' father approaching behind them, carrying his and the boys' bags.

"Johnny," Bobby greeted the older man just as enthusiastically. "Not that I'm not glad to see y'all, but why are you here? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," John replied. "I just... um, boys, I need to talk to Uncle Bobby. Can you put these bags in the house?"

"Sure, dad," Dean replied. "I can take yours if you want."

"Thanks, sport," John said as he reached over and ruffled Dean's hair, much to the chagrin of his oldest son.

"Quit it," he protested immediately.

After Sammy had collected a few more hugs from his beloved uncle, the boys disappeared into the house. "Everything okay?" Bobby asked again with a touch of worry.

"I was... um..." John didn't finish his sentence.

When John Winchester showed up unexpectedly, he was usually looking for a babysitter, a favour Bobby was always happy to oblige, but John never hesitated to ask, which could only mean one thing.

"I'm actually glad you showed up. The garage in town closed and I got four of their customers. More than I can handle right now. Can you stay a couple of weeks and help me out?"

When the grateful and relieved look showed up on John's face, Bobby guessed he had hit the nail on the head. "I was going to ask you to watch the boys while I did a salt and burn, but I can stay for a bit," John said keeping the cover.

---------

There was nothing Bobby enjoyed more than having his family around. Any extra time he spent with them was a bonus, but there was something going on between John and Dean that seemed off to the senior mechanic.

Dean had always tried to be helpful and please his father, but he seemed to have taken it to a whole new level. If Bobby hadn't known better, he would have sworn that Dean was trying to make up for something, as things seemed tense between father and son.

At first, he wondered if it had to do with Dean's schooling. When a teacher had finally cared enough to see behind Dean's 'I don't care' attitude, and discovered that the reason for his bad grades was that he couldn't read, rather than put him back several grades, he was transferred to an alternative school that allowed students to work at their own pace. Dean had hated it, but he made the best of a bad situation and worked hard.

That theory was shot down when he watched John work with Dean on his reading each night. The young boy seemed to genuinely enjoy the time he was getting to spend with his old man.

No, something else had happened and whatever it was, it was big. Dean never questioned his father, or disobeyed, and he was quick to complete any task John ordered, no matter what it was.

There were other things that Bobby noticed as well. Like the fact that Dean had dropped the title of uncle when he addressed Bobby, and most days, he awoke to find Dean already up, with breakfast on the table. He would show up at the garage at lunch time with sandwiches for him and John, and he was always offering to help with dinner. He could still remember the hurt look Dean had given him when Bobby declined his help and told him to go play.

He attempted to do some housework, but keeping up with an energetic 6 year old was tough, so he didn't get much done.

It was almost as if Dean was trying to prove he was an adult, and his father's equal. It was breaking Bobby's heart because the kid was 10 years old. He shouldn't be taking on adult responsibilities.

Bobby tried to give him a break sometimes. He took Dean down to the garage a few times in the evenings, as tinkering with the engines was something Dean truly enjoyed, and was good at. The problem was that they weren't there more than 20 minutes before Sammy would come wandering down, saying that John had sent him since he wanted to do some research in Bobby's library. It was usually about 10 minutes after that when Sammy would inevitably get bored and ask Dean to play with him, which Dean did every time.

If Bobby truly wanted to give Dean a chance to be a kid, he had to get him away from John and Sammy. This was also partly selfish on Bobby's part because he got a full day out with his son.

-----------

"Morning, Bobby," Dean greeted his uncle enthusiastically. "Breakfast is almost ready. Can you get Sammy and dad?"

"Sure," Bobby replied. "It smells great. I can't wait to dig in," Bobby said encouragingly. It was worth it when a smile erupted on Dean's face.

While not gourmet, Dean's cooking was edible, and Bobby actually considered it better than John's.

"Dean, I need your help today," Bobby said to Dean a short while later as he wiped orange juice off his face.

"With what?" Dean asked. He was always eager to please.

"I need to go into town and run some errands, and I have a big potential new client. He has a boy about your age. Can you keep him busy for me while I talk to his old man? Last time I was there, he was underfoot the whole time and I couldn't get a word in edgewise."

Entertaining some stranger's kid was the last thing Dean wanted to do, but he would do anything for Bobby. "Sure, but what about Sammy?" he asked.

"Johnny's got the day off," Bobby said matter of factly.

"I do?" John asked in surprise.

"Yup, you're employee of the month. It's fully paid too."

"But, I want to go with Deanie," Sam protested as Bobby knew he would.

"Maybe your daddy can take you to the movies. I believe Bambi is playing."

"BAMBI!" Sam cried excitedly. It was his current obsession, much to the chagrin of his dad and older brother, who had read the story one too many times already. "I wanna go see Bambi, daddy," Sam said immediately. "Please, daddy, I'll never ask for anything ever again in the whole, wide world.

"Alright," John agreed grudgingly. He really didn't want to, but Sam would never shut up about it now. "Thanks," he shot at Bobby. "Dean, go get yourself and your brother dressed."

"Yes sir," Dean said, getting up. "Come on, Sammy." He had to admit he was relieved not to have to watch that cartoon. He hated the book.

Sam got up to follow Dean. "We're going to see Bambi." The little boy turned back and looked at his father over his shoulder. "Daddy, can we get popcorn?"

----------

Things between him and Dean got off to a bit of a rocky start when Dean seemed quiet and subdued. "Cat got your tongue?" Bobby asked.

Dean shrugged and continued looking out the window. Bobby tried to sigh without the young boy hearing it. The kid was so conditioned to look out for Sam, that he did it even when Sam wasn't there. He knew that Dean was wondering what his brother was up to. He needed a distraction.

"There's hardly any traffic on this road. You want to drive?"

That caught Dean's attention. He turned back to stare at Bobby. "Seriously?" he asked.

"Yup, slide over," Bobby said as he got out of the truck and walked around to the passenger door. He was so glad that he had bought the automatic. "Can you reach okay?" Bobby asked.

"I think so," Dean replied. He was tall for a 10 year old, but he still had to slouch down to reach the pedals. If he craned his head up, he could see a little bit. "I'm going to keep my hand on the wheel, just to steady the car, since you can't see fully. Now, listen to what I tell you, okay?"

"Yes, sir," Dean said in an excited tone.

Reaching behind him, Bobby grabbed his seatbelt, pulled it over his shoulder and made sure it was tightly fastened. He knew he should make Dean put his on, but with the way the kid was slumped over to reach the accelerator, it was impossible. He was also thinking that he needed to have his head examined. "Alright, put your right foot on the brake and turn the key, then let the brake go and keep your foot _**off **_the accelerator until I tell you," Bobby said firmly.

Doing as instructed, the car started to roll along slowly. "You're doing great," Bobby encouraged. "Now slowly press... _**STOP!"**_ Bobby shouted when the vehicle suddenly shot forward, and he felt his seatbelt catch when Dean slammed the brake.

"Are you okay?" Bobby asked in concern. Dean hadn't had his seatbelt on. "I said slow," he reprimanded and bit his tongue. Lately, whenever Dean thought he did something wrong, he got this chastised look on his face, like he wasn't surprised that he had screwed up. He was a little surprised to find the little imp laughing his head off.

"Sorry, Bobby, but man, you should have seen your face."

"Think that's funny do you?" Bobby said. Great just what he needed. Dean was probably going to be a speed demon like his old man.

"Yeah," Dean said grinning.

"Let's try this again. This time, only a small amount of pressure, okay. You don't want to give yo... an old man a heart attack do you? I mean, if I keel over, who's going to take you to the car show?"

"What car show?" Dean asked, a bit confused. "Aren't we going to your friend's house? You wanted me to play with his son."

"Oh, no. Guess I'm getting old. Must have gotten my dates confused. I got an extra ticket to the car show. It would be a shame to let it go to waste. Want to come with me?"

"Hell, yeah," Dean said. He then proceeded to take his foot off the brake and pushed the gas pedal, this time per Bobby's instructions.

For about five minutes, everything was fine. The road was straight and abandoned, so Bobby wasn't too worried, until Dean started feeling braver. "For the love of God, Dean, slow down!"

---------

Bobby decided the five heart attacks and two strokes he'd had with Dean behind the wheel were worth it, if the grin lighting up Dean's face was anything to judge by. That was nothing, he thought, compared to when they had pulled into the parking lot at the convention centre. Dean's grin could have lit up an entire room.

"Bobby, look it's a Thunderbird, and there's a Viper." Dean could barely contain his excitement. Look, they got an Impala." Although Bobby noticed that his smile lost a bit of lustre. He looked up and immediately spotted the problem.

"Pink," Dean said in disgust. "Why would you do that? Is that legal?"

"If it is, it shouldn't be," Bobby's own enjoyment went up another notch when Dean laughed. It sounded so relaxed and carefree, not at all forced like it had been lately.

As the afternoon wore on, Bobby found himself enjoying the company of his 10 year old son. The best part was getting to see Dean acting like a kid rather than a miniature adult. He ran from display to display and pestered the owners with questions. Fortunately they didn't mind. Dean's boyish enthusiasm was catching. He impressed a number of owners with his knowledge of cars. He'd surprised Bobby as well with how much he had picked up. Dean was beside himself when one of the owners let him sit behind the wheel of a 1935 Cadillac. The only person to give Dean a hard time was the owner of the pink Impala. He tried to tell her about his dad's but she wasn't interested. Bobby couldn't help but wonder if she was little perturbed that not many people were visiting her booth.

"Please don't touch," the lady said rudely, looking at Dean like he was a going to contaminate her car.

"I was just looking," Dean explained.

"Come on kiddo, I see an Aston Martin over there." Bobby wanted to get away. "Maybe you should let him get it dirty," Bobby sniped when Dean's attention was diverted. "Anything would be an improvement over the way it looks now."

Things with the Impala lady were soon forgotten when they got to the Aston Martin. Bobby wasn't sure how it happened, but somehow Dean had ended up getting a short ride. When they were done, he was practically bouncing off the walls, he was so excited.

"I wish dad could have seen me," Dean lamented after he thanked car's owner about a hundred times.

"I got a picture," Bobby said holding up his camera.

"You don't think dad will be mad that you lied, will he?" Dean asked with a touch of worry.

That was the biggest reason Bobby wanted Dean away from John. If his father had been there, Dean would have tried to restrain his enthusiasm so that he didn't look like a kid, and John would have insisted that Dean take care of Sammy. There was no way Sam would have wanted to even go to the convention. If he hadn't set things up like he had done, Dean would have been the one seeing Bambi.

"Thanks for this, Bobby. It was such an awesome day," Dean said as they headed toward the parking lot.

"Seems to me, the day's just getting started. Let's go get something to eat. I know a place that serves bacon cheeseburgers that a person would kill for."

-----------------

Bobby wasn't ready for the day to end. Dean was more animated than Bobby had ever seen him. He had said more in that afternoon than he had in the previous four years that Bobby had known him.

Lunch had started out with Dean bragging about how smart Sam was, and how well he had done in school last year. Bobby was encouraged, though, when Dean talked about how glad he was that he could now read to Sammy, and didn't have to make it up based on the pictures. Bobby made sure Dean knew how proud he was of how far the boy had come in such a short time.

After lunch, he drove them to the mall. "Why are we here, Uncle Bobby?" Dean asked, not noticing the way he addressed his friend.

"I thought we'd do a bit of shopping."

"You hate shopping."

"No, I don't," Bobby insisted.

"Then how come you told dad that rather than go to a mall, you'd rather cut off your left n..."

"I know what I said," Bobby cut him off. "Just humor an old man, okay?"

"Where are we going?"

"Toy store." It was actually more like a department store, since they sold everything, but Bobby had always referred to it as a toy store since the toy section took up almost the whole store.

"Why?" Dean asked again.

"I told you, we're going shopping."

Dean was seriously beginning to wonder if his uncle had gone crazy, or was possessed. "Christo."

"Funny, smart ass," Bobby grinned. "Now, I want you to go pick out anything you want," Bobby instructed the young hunter.

"Why?" Dean asked sounding confused.

"Because it's a grading present."

"Dad says the reward is enough to be proud of a job well done."

Which meant Johnny was broke and couldn't afford to buy the boys anything. He wasn't trying to show John up, he just wanted to spoil his boys for once in his life. He was planning to bring home something for Sammy as well. "It's okay," Bobby said hoping to convince Dean.

"You're sure?" Dean asked hesitantly, but he couldn't help but look at the display before him. It was a shelf filled with stuffed animals. He was hoping he could find a stuffed Bambi for Sammy.

Bobby saw exactly where Dean was staring, and knew what he was thinking. "I want you to pick out something for yourself. I'll pick out some stuff for Sammy, don't worry. He won't be left out."

"Thanks, man. So what can I get?" Dean asked, his gaze shifting over to an electronic display.

"Anything in the store is fair game."

"Awesome," Dean said taking off toward the cassette tapes.

"Not very smart," a female voice suddenly reprimanded him.

"Excuse me," Bobby said with a touch of irritation. He was shocked to see the lady with the pink Impala standing before him.

"Telling your kid to pick out whatever he wants," she said sounding like Bobby shouldn't have kids, because he clearly had no clue what he was doing. "I would never tell my sons to do that," she trailed off, her implication clear. "I would hate to think of what my bill would be."

"Maybe I can trust my kid, because he's got a little self control," Bobby snapped, trying to keep his anger in check. He had been told never to hit a woman, even if they deserved it. He walked to the display of stuffed animals, where he could find something for Sam and still keep an eye on Dean. He honestly wasn't worried that Dean would come back with something that cost hundreds of dollars. Even if he did, Bobby was getting it for him anyway.

In the end, it turned out that his faith was well rewarded. Dean picked out a Motorhead cassette, and at Bobby's encouragement he also got a Metallica tape. Bobby also grabbed a walkman and put it in the basket, despite Dean's protests. He couldn't find Bambi exactly, but he found a stuffed baby deer that was close enough. Bobby also got Sammy some picture books, and he grabbed a couple that he thought Dean might like, including The Outsiders. It was a little advanced for Dean's age, but Bobby knew he would enjoy reading it with Dean, feeling that if he read something he liked, it might be less of a chore.

He went through the checkout that was directly across from Ms. Uppity's. She had two kids, one who looked at bit older than Dean, and one who looked to be Dean's age, and a cart full to almost overflowing with toys. Bobby's total came to a little over $100. The snobby witch's total was over $500 and growing.

"Just imagine what your bill would be if you had told them they could pick out what they wanted," he couldn't resist commenting with a big smirk. The woman just scowled at him.

--------

Just when Bobby was hoping to never see the woman again, he ran into her at the clothing store. School was starting in a few weeks, and Bobby knew how tough it was to be the new kid, and just how much tougher it was showing up as the new kid with holes in your jeans, faded shirts, and an old duffle bag to carry your books in.

He had a brief argument with Dean, but the young boy quickly warmed to the idea. Then Bobby took them over to the school supplies and bought the standard stuff, and told Dean to pick out a backpack for him and Sam.

Dean was looking them over when they heard a fight break out and discovered two boys were fighting over a backpack.

"I want that one!"

"No, that's one's mine!"

"I saw it first, give it."

"Snooze, you lose."

They kept pulling on it. "Um, maybe one of you should..." Dean started to say. He could see what was happening before it happened. With two boys pulling with all their strength, the fabric tore and both boys went flying.

"Garrett, Alexander," someone reprimanded them.

Looking up, Bobby was beginning to think he was cursed. It was the pink Impala lady, as they had dubbed her.

"Excuse me, ma'am," a sales woman made their way over to him. "That bag has to be paid for."

"My sons would never. That boy..."

"No way, lady," Bobby said angrily. She couldn't have been about to blame Dean. He wouldn't stand for it.

"I saw what happened," the sales lady said. "If you want to come with me to the service desk."

"I will be back in five minutes. You boys behave for mommy. Garrett, keep an eye on Alex," she instructed her older hellion, like he was an angel. She wasn't gone more than 30 seconds before they were back at it.

The younger boy picked up a Superman backpack, which the older boy promptly snatched from him.

"Hey!" Alex protested.

Before another full scale war broke out, Dean walked over to the younger boy, who was about to burst into tears. "Hey, it's okay. I'd let him have it."

"But Superman is so cool. He has x-ray vision," Alex said, and his eyes filled up and he looked on the verge of a full scale temper tantrum.

"I'm gonna tell you a secret," Dean said making it sound really important. "Superman is a wuss. If you want to be the coolest kid in your class, you want Batman. Batman's got the bat car, and he gets to hang out in the bat cave. Plus, he has the coolest gadgets known to man. But that's not what makes Batman special. Want to know what does?"

"What?" Alex asked, intrigued.

"He's just a human, like you and me, but he stands up for others. He doesn't need no stupid super powers. I'm telling you, kid, you want Batman."

"Superman sucks," the young boy said to his older brother and grabbed a Batman backpack off the rack.

Garrett started to approach them, clearly intending to snatch the now coveted Batman knapsack from him. "You should let him have it," Dean said, stepping in front of the younger boy. "Only little kids want cartoons. I guess you're a little boy. I would pick this one." Dean grabbed a plain black one off the rack, making sure to keep his hand over the bottom right hand corner. "This is the most grown up one."

"Well, it's mine," Garrett said grabbing it from Dean, which is exactly what Dean wanted, and what he had predicted would happen.

"Have you boys chosen?" Their mother said coming around the corner.

"Yes, mommy," Alex said. "I got Batman. He's the best. That boy said so." The boy pointed out Dean. The woman frowned.

"I got a grown up one," Garrett said holding his up.

The woman looked at the price tags. The ruined one hadn't been cheap and the Batman one was $50 and the black one was $70. She frowned. "Maybe..."

"NO!" Both boys instantly protested. "I want this one."

"Very well, come along."

"Excuse me," Bobby said before she could leave. "I think you should say thank you. My nephew saved the day."

"Come along, boys," she said ignoring Bobby.

"It's okay," Dean said loud enough to be heard. "I just use the same technique with my six year old brother. It works perfectly."

The woman was clearly not happy with Dean's implication that her boys were behaving like 6 year olds. She decided it wasn't worth it, threw up her nose and marched her boys to the check out.

"Good going, Dean."

"I don't know if you should praise me, Uncle Bobby. I mean, how long do you think it will take him to find the pink embroidered Tinkerbell on that backpack?"

Bobby threw back his head and laughed. No wonder Dean had held it like he did. "At least he'll match the car," Bobby quipped.

The two didn't stop laughing all the way to the check out.

----------

The last stop of the day was to pick up a pizza to take home with them. They joked about whether or not Impala lady would be there. Fate seemed to intervene when they pulled into the parking lot at the pizza place only to find a pink Impala.

They had been about to pull out and go find another place, when Dean noticed that the front tire of her car was flat. By unspoken agreement, they pulled in. "Can we help?" Bobby offered.

"I was going to call a tow truck," the woman said sounding lost.

"My uncle owns Singer Salvage. If you have a tire, he can change it for you, no problem. Save you a lot of money," Dean couldn't resist adding.

"Well..."

"It's almost 7pm. You'll be lucky to get a tow truck in under two hours. I can have you on the road in 20 minutes," Bobby promised.

She agreed, just wanting to get home.

So Bobby and Dean got to work. Bobby turned it into an impromptu lesson for Dean. When they had finished, Pink Impala lady didn't say thank you, but Bobby didn't expect it.

"It's good that we did it anyway," Dean said. "Dad always says that you need to help people that can't help themselves. If you paint a car that color, you obviously can't help yourself," Dean quipped. Which had Bobby chuckling again.

"I'm gonna go order the pizza. Here, go play the video games while we're waiting," Bobby said handing Dean some change.

"Thanks," Dean said accepting the change and going over to play Space Invaders.

"I saw what you did," the waitress said to Bobby when he placed his order. "That lady is in here all the time with those two brats of hers. They practically destroy the place. Thanks for getting them out of here."

"No problem," Bobby replied.

"It's good to see a nice, well behaved child. You must be very proud of your son," she continued.

Bobby looked over at Dean and then turned back to the waitress. "Yes, thank you. I am very proud of him."

---------

John was a little upset when they got home, and he found out that Bobby had lied to him, not to mention the money he had spent, but it was hard to stay mad when Dean bounced around the house telling John and Sammy all about his day. John was laughing as hard as they had when they filled him in on the adventures of the Pink Impala lady.

Sammy loved the deer and the backpack with the jungle animals that Dean had picked out, and admired Dean's NASCAR one. He was as excited as Dean to tell them all about the movie he had seen. The older hunters listened politely.

Bobby fully expected John to light into him when the boys were tucked into bed that night, but he surprised the senior mechanic and just thanked him. His pride was hurt a little bit, but he knew that Bobby's only motivation was that he cared about Sam and Dean.

From that day on, it had become a tradition. Whenever John stopped by, Bobby would take each boy out for a special day, and spoil them rotten.

---------

_**PRESENT**_

Bobby was sitting by Dean's bedside, talking to him about that day. He still smiled when he thought of that pink car. He'd seen it around a few times, but he never saw the woman again, and he wondered what had happened to her, and if her kids were still a major pain in the ass.

Dean was stable enough that he didn't have a nurse in his room 24/7 anymore, and he was enjoying this rare moment alone with his son, despite the _whoosh, thump _noise of the ventilator. It was tough for the mechanic to see his son like that, but he couldn't deny the benefits. While it hadn't been a magic pill, Dean had improved. His fever had broken, and while his counts still were below where the doctors were hoping they would be, they were climbing slowly.

Bobby's moment was interrupted when Cindy came in. "How's my boy doing?" he asked

"Better," Cindy said with a big grin. "I just came from speaking to Dr. Scott. Everything's going in the right direction. His temp's almost normal, and it's still continuing to go down while his counts are starting to come up."

Bobby couldn't help but return her smile, despite the fact that they were going to have an even bigger fight on their hands soon enough.

With his temperature dropping, Dean was starting to become more aware. Bobby knew it was only a matter of time before Dean figured out what had been done to him, and then he was going to insist that the vent be removed, and that was scaring Bobby because Dean would never see that it _**was**_ helping him.

He hated, hated, _**HATED **_the thought of telling Dean he should leave it in because it was for his own good. _For your own good_. Those were four words Bobby hated most in the English language. How many times had he heard them growing up? Whenever he asked to go back to his mother, he was told over and over that it wasn't the right time and that he was staying with his current set of foster parents for his own good. He still didn't understand that as several of them had been abusive. He thanked God every day that he was sent to Rob and Helen Dixon.

That left him with the dilemma of exactly what to tell Dean when he did wake up. To say that he was going to be pissed was the understatement of the century.

-------

He felt like there was an enormous weight on his chest, making it hard to breathe. There was something in his throat blocking air from getting through. He had to get rid of it. He tried coughing to dislodge whatever it was, but it seemed to make the problem worse. He had to get rid of it. He brought up his hand to try and dig it out, but his hand wouldn't move.

"Easy," a rough and gentle voice cut through his haze. "You're okay, son. Just relax and go back to sleep. I got ya."

That actually sounded like good advice, and he allowed himself to drift off once more.

--------

"That was close," Bobby mumbled after Dean stopped fighting. "He's going to want to it out when he wakes up fully," Bobby cautioned Cindy. "Do you have any suggestions as to how I can convince him to leave it in?"

"The usual stuff. Look at the improvement he's made in the last few days," Cindy said as she made some notes on Dean's chart.

"Like that'll work," Bobby said sarcastically. "What's going to happen if we do take it out?"

"I can't give guarantees, but most likely his body would go back to focusing on getting enough oxygen, and he would have to fight that much harder. What about just telling him that it will get him out of here quicker?" the nurse suggested.

"We already used that argument for the feeding tube. He ain't gonna buy it again. Especially since it doesn't appear to be true," Bobby said forlornly. "Do I have any say in whether the breathing tube stays in?"

"It depends. Right now you do because he's not capable of making his own decisions, but his temperature is only a degree above normal. His fever will be gone soon and once he's awake and aware, if he wants the tube out, our hands are tied."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Short of having him declared legally incompetent, there's not much any of us can do. Just try to reason with him. He's doing good, Bobby. I'll be back a little later, you can buzz me or Dr. Scott if there's any questions."

"Thanks."

-------

_What should I do? _It was what Bobby kept asking himself over and over again, but he never had the answer. He wasn't even sure who to ask for advice. John would make leaving the tube in an order, and Sam could guilt Dean into leaving it in, but he had already said he wouldn't do that to his brother. He still felt bad about doing it to get Dean to agree to the tests way back before this whole nightmare started. There was one thing he could do, but it would totally destroy any relationship he had with his son.

Dean was going to be angry about the ET tube, that was a given, but Dean didn't hold grudges. He would refuse to speak to any of them for a while, but he would eventually come around, but what Bobby was thinking about was unforgivable. He wasn't even sure he could forgive himself for considering it.

You couldn't be a hunter for as long as Bobby had been without accumulating favours. In this case, there was a judge named Martin Twilson who sat on the bench at the state supreme court, and he owed Bobby a big favour. If Bobby wanted full control over all of Dean's medical decisions, he could get it without going to court.

But Dean would hate him, and Bobby wouldn't blame him. There would be no more days like that one they had shared when Dean was 10. There would be no more light hearted times in the garage as they argued good naturedly while working on a car engine. With him and John patching things up, Bobby had been looking forward to getting to know his son again. But all of that would never happen if Dean didn't survive this procedure.

Did he need the vent to survive? There was no way to know for sure, and Dean was a fighter, but neither Dr. Scott nor Cindy thought he was ready to come off it. It wasn't often that Bobby trusted doctors, but he trusted those two. If he made the call, it increased Dean's odds for survival, but his son would never trust him again.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there thinking about things when he looked down and saw that not only were Dean's eyes open, but that there was recognition in them, and he didn't look happy. Bobby reached over and pushed the call button, hoping he could calm Dean down before the monitor went off again.

--------------------

He could hear a strange hissing and thumping sound and it was driving him crazy. He wanted it to stop and when he opened his mouth to tell them to turn it off, he found that he suddenly felt like he was suffocating. He started coughing and trying to get it out, but it held fast.

"Dean," a concerned voice cut through his panic. "Listen to my voice, okay son? Don't try to talk, there is a tube in your throat that's helping you breathe. Don't fight it. Work with it."

_What the hell was going on? _He knew this sensation, it was the same one he had woken up to in the hospital after the accident.

_Oh God! The accident. Was he still in the hospital? Were his dad and Sammy okay? He had to find them._

"Dean, lie still. You'll hurt yourself. Your daddy's outside. Stubborn fool ran himself into the ground. They have to rule out infection before they can let him in here. Let me tell you, he's not fit to be around right now. Sam's gone back the motel to get some sleep, but he'll be back in a few hours. You're doing great, son. Your counts are climbing steady. The vent's helping."

_Counts? Oh yeah, the crash was months ago. _The news that his family was safe relaxed him considerably.

"You with me?" Bobby asked. "One blink for yes. Two for no. Do you know where you are?"

One blink.

"Just relax and go back to sleep," Bobby coaxed. He hated himself for taking advantage of Dean's weakened state, but he wasn't ready to make this decision yet.

Two blinks.

Dean had been determined to stay awake, but his weakened body had other ideas and he drifted off just as Dr. Scott entered the room.

--------------------

The next time Dean woke up, Sam was with him. He stayed awake for a little bit longer, but Dean had always been a master of non-verbal communication and it was clear that he wasn't happy with the situation.

It was two days later when Dean's temperature was back to normal and when he was awake, he was fully aware of what was going on around him. Dr. Scott warned Bobby that if Dean asked for the tube to be taken out, he wouldn't have a choice.

Bobby was thankful it was him that was with Dean when he awoke the next day. John had finally been allowed in, and had just sat with him that morning. When Bobby had calmed him down, Dean indicated that he wanted something to write with. When Bobby handed him a pad he wrote one word. _**OUT!**_

He pleaded his case, telling Dean the progress he had made over the last few days, but Dean didn't want to hear any of it. He kept glaring at Bobby and pointing to his pad.

Dr. Scott came after Bobby paged him, explaining all the benefits to Dean once again, telling him that removing the vent would probably set him back. Dean didn't want to listen to any of it. He could feel sleep threatening to pull him under, but he didn't want to give in until the tube was gone.

"They can't remove it," Bobby said desperately. "You'd never be able to breathe. They have to wean you off it." He looked to Dr. Scott hoping he was right, and if he wasn't, hoping the man would back him up if he wasn't.

_How long?_

_"_A few days," Dr. Scott said.

_24 hours. _

Bobby would take what could get. He had one more day to figure out a solution.

--------------

The three Winchesters and Bobby had a long meeting with Dr. Scott that night about what to expect. He explained that they could only turn the oxygen up so high, and most likely Dean's body would go back to concentrating on getting enough oxygen, causing a setback. There was some hope that wouldn't happen, but no one was really counting on it. Predictably, Dean still wanted the tube out.

When Bobby walked out of that meeting, his mind was made up. He walked over to the phone fully prepared to call Judge Twilson. His hand hovered over the buttons. This was the right decision, wasn't it?

TBC

Please remember to read and review.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Disclaimer: Still don't own, and I'm not making any money.

A/N:

I actually have an update for you all. Sorry this took so long. I don't really have an excuse, other than school and real life. Thanks for sticking with me.

If you reviewed and I never go the chance to answer, I'm sorry. I appreciate everyone.

--

It seemed like forever since John had had a chance to just sit down and be alone with Dean. Cindy or Dr. Scott had been in the room and either Sam or Bobby had been in the anteroom. Now though, Sam was back at the motel catching up on some much needed sleep, and Bobby was off on some mysterious errand. Right now, John had Dean all to himself.

Dean was staring blankly at the TV. There wasn't really much of a sound in the room except the _whoosh thump _of the ventilator. John knew that Dean hated it, and, quite frankly, he had been surprised that his son had tolerated it this long. Had it been him, he would have insisted it be removed immediately upon waking up. But Dean was a good soldier and he followed orders. If John made staying on the vent an order, Dean would have followed it. He was tempted, especially when Dean's medical team felt it was necessary for it to stay in. That kind of shocked and surprised John. He was wondering if Dean recognized, on some level, that he needed it.

"Hey buddy," John called softly to his eldest son.

Dean instinctively turned at the sound of his nickname. His eyes seemed weary, as if he could figure out what his father's next words were going to be.

"This reminds me so much of the time when you were born. You had every tube, wire, and machine that you have now, right down to your bald head," John said keeping his tone light. "Even this room is just like a giant incubator. It's bringing up some memories. It was a tough time for your mother and me."

Dean turned his head and his gaze drifted toward the wall. _Damn it, this wasn't the way John wanted the conversation to go. _"Let me finish, okay? I want to say they're also some of the best memories I have. Me and your mother would spend hours by your bedside. It was all worth it," John said with a grin that lit up his eyes. "You and your brother were both miracles. For the longest time, your mother and I didn't think we would be able to have children." John knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he needed to say this. "We had almost given up hope when your mother became pregnant." Okay, that was not technically a lie. They had thought Mary would never get pregnant, and John had never said Mary was pregnant with Dean. _Whatever you need to tell yourself_. "Despite all the complications, you never gave up, son. Not once. You were the bravest kid I knew. What you went through as a kid would put grown men to shame. But through it all, you never complained, not once."

_Why the hell was his father saying all this stuff, Dean wondered?_ John Winchester never did anything unless he had an ulterior motive. He figured it was coming. It was just a matter of time before his father ordered him to stay on the vent. He was just surprised that his dad had waited this long. They both knew that Dean would obey. It's what he did. He was daddy's blunt little instrument. Just once, he wished it would be about what he wanted, but it never was. Dean closed his eyes, bracing himself for the words. _Screw it, he thought after a moment_. He turned back toward his dad and mimed that he wanted his writing tablet.

John handed it to him and accepted it back when Dean had finished. _ Leave it! _

Those were the two words John wanted to hear, but even in those two small written words, John could hear the resignation in them. This had to be Dean's decision and Dean's alone.

John held Dean's gaze and shook his head. This was probably the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. "What do you want?" John ground out through gritted teeth.

* * *

_Did he just hear that right? _There was no way. He couldn't have. He met his dad's gaze, trying to find the hidden meaning those words. Nobody ever cared about what he wanted. This was the worst time for John to grow a conscience.

John just nodded, signaling he had meant what he said. He handed the pad back to Dean, fully prepared for the one word he didn't want to see.

_Why?_

Okay, that wasn't it. John could clearly read the confusion in that one word, and Dean's expressive jade eyes were full of it as well.

"I was going to order you," John said honestly. "But, Dr. Scott told me at the start of this thing that you had to be committed if it was going to work. I want you to get better, Dean, more than anything, but this is something I can't force you to do." John's explanation made no sense to his ears or Dean's apparently, when his son looked even more bewildered.

"This isn't coming out right at all," John conceded. _God, how long had it been since he just sat down and talked to his boys. He didn't even know how to do it anymore. _"Technically, I could and I did say I want to, but I can't." _Damn it! _

Dean looked completely lost right now, and John didn't blame him. "I've never been good at this stuff. It was always your mother's territory. She always knew the right thing to say. So, what I guess I'm trying to say is..." John paused. "Hell, I have no idea," he finally admitted. He looked toward Dean. Was that a small twinkle in his eye?

Dean wrote something and handed the pad to his father. _English?_

_Little imp! _John grinned as well. "I know. It's just... well; remember that time when you were about 14. You came to me and asked if you could take point on a hunt?"

The little bit of light faded from Dean's eyes at that statement and he immediately tensed. John hated himself for bringing this up. It had resulted in another time he almost lost one of his boys. When it came right down to it, the blame should have landed squarely on his shoulders.

"I didn't trust your decision back then. It wasn't your fault, it was mine." John replied firmly. He knew that Dean didn't believe him, and he shouldn't be surprised because after that hunt, which had gone disastrously wrong, he had been the one to lay the blame squarely on Dean's shoulders.

* * *

**1993**

John Winchester laid on his bed at their latest no tell motel, watching a re-run of Full House. He wasn't actually watching it; he was trying to figure out who was possessed, because no one in their right mind would have acted in it if they weren't.

He hated lying around doing nothing, and he was so glad that it was the last day of school for the summer. He was seriously ready to move on, he had a potential hunt lined up and as soon as the boys got home, they were leaving for South Dakota.

The job was near Bobby's, and John figured that Sam could stay with him. John had promised Dean he could help on this hunt if he passed all his courses.

Dean, though, had been begging John to let him take the lead. Right from finding it, to the research, to the kill. John had been reluctant. Dean was a good hunter and he followed orders, but John knew that the research part was hard for him, and he didn't want his son making a mistake that could get them all killed.

Rather than just say no and risk hurting his son's confidence, John set what he thought was an impossible standard. He told Dean that he had to raise his average a full point from a C to a B.

He grabbed the remote and turned off the TV when he heard the sound of a key in the lock, and Dean burst through the door with a big smile on his face.

"Dean," a voice called out a couple of minutes later. "I told you that you were going too fast, Dad said you were supposed to wait for me."

"You just need bigger legs, shrimp," Dean teased.

"Daaadddd!" Sam whined.

"Dean, stop teasing your brother," John admonished. "I believe you boys have something for me."

"Here," Sam said excitedly and handed his father his report card. "I got all A's, dad. I had the highest mark in my class."

"That's great, Sammy," John said sincerely. He quickly looked over the comments and found the expected 'Sam's a joy to have in the class, excellent student, fulfills potential" remarks. "Dean." He held out his hand expectantly.

"I did it," Dean said proudly.

John looked over the paper. Dean's overall average was a B-. Technically, John could use it as a loop hole, but Dean was standing there looking so damned pleased with him self that John didn't have the heart to break Dean's. He returned his elder son's smile. "Yeah, you did," John said pulling him into a hug.

"Can we go to the library tonight?" Dean asked when John let him go.

"You want to go to the library?" Sam asked in disbelief.

"Sam," John said with a warning in his tone. "We don't need to. I have a hunt picked out for us in South Dakota..."

"We're going to Uncle Bobby's?" Sam said eagerly. If Dean was helping on a hunt, it usually meant they were, not that he minded, Sam loved it there. It was the closest thing to a real home that he had.

"Ye..." John started to say.

"But..." Dean instantly protested. "You told me I could pick out what we hunted. You promised, dad. I did everything you asked."

In that moment, John couldn't help but notice that his 14 year old son sounded 4. Dean had sounded nervous; like he wasn't sure he should be questioning his father's decision.

What John didn't know was that something else entirely was going through Dean's mind. If his father had picked out a hunt, he knew that his father hadn't had the confidence that he would be able to meet the goals his father had set. Which meant that his father didn't believe in him? Maybe he wasn't ready for this.

"We need to make sure the hunt is near South Dakota," John compromised. He had scoured the papers and he knew that the woman in white he had found was the only hunt around. "If you're going out with me, we need to make sure Sam's looked after."

"I can look after myself," Sam protested.

"Sammy, don't start," John said immediately. He was so not getting into an argument with his youngest. Lately, Sam had been protesting, saying that they treated him like a baby. "Tell you what, for your grading present, you can pick the restaurant we go to. Then we'll head out to the library tonight.

* * *

John tossed and turned that night as his mind wouldn't shut off. He didn't want to hurt Dean's feelings, but he really didn't think his son was ready for this. Or maybe it was more the fact that John didn't want to admit that Dean was ready. Or maybe the real reason was he wasn't ready.

It didn't matter how old the boys got. They were still his babies.

He drifted into an uneasy sleep just after midnight, but something work woke him just after one. He looked across the room to the bed the boys were sharing, and was surprised to find only Sam slumbering away.

His senses kicking into high alert, John sat up quickly and looked around the room for his eldest child. He relaxed a little when he saw the light under the bathroom door.

Lying back down, John waited for Dean to come out of the bathroom. He waited 5 minutes, then 10 and there was still no Dean. He started to get a little worried after 15 when he realized that he hadn't been hearing bathroom noises.

Throwing off the covers, John jumped out of bed and walked stealthily to the bathroom and threw open the door, praying he wouldn't see anything bad.

He found Dean sitting on his pillow, leaning back against the tub. Newspaper obituaries were scattered all around him. When the door slammed open, Dean jumped a mile and the pad in his hand went flying.

John picked it up and went to hand it back to Dean when he noticed that his son had noted the names of the two men he had found, and had circles around them. Kid really was a chip off the old block. John hadn't told him anything about the hunt and Dean had managed to spot the pattern. He felt his pride growing. The kid would make a fine hunter someday.

"Dude, did you ever hear of knocking? What if I had been busy...?"

"Please don't finish that thought," John pleaded. He could guess what Dean had been about to say. The very thought made him uncomfortable. "Why are you up?"

"I wanted to see if I could find something," Dean said stating the obvious. "I photocopied all the obituaries because I wanted to be able to examine them more closely. I didn't uh, have time at the library," Dean said sounding slightly embarrassed with his eyes downcast.

"Hey," John said laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. He had dropped the boys off at the library and told them that he would be back in an hour. Dean was a slow reader and John figured it would lessen his chances of finding anything. He really was a heartless bastard. What Dean didn't see was that it was another sign that he was going to be as good a hunter as his old man. Time was essential when you were on a hunt and Dean had used his wisely. He made sure he had what he needed and then when he could concentrate, he had managed to put the pieces together. That was what John should have said, but instead he just laid a hand on Dean's shoulder and said, "Hey, its okay. I do it all the time."

Dean gave his father a small, sad smile, saying that he appreciated his father trying to make him feel better, but that he didn't believe him. His father could spot patterns without even trying. It had taken him over an hour and he still wasn't sure he had one, or if he was grasping at straws. "Can you check this for me?' Dean asked tentatively.

"In the morning," John agreed. "You should be asleep. I want to get an early start tomorrow."

"'Kay, thanks dad."

John didn't go right to bed though. He sat up for an hour and waited until Dean fell asleep. Then he pulled out Dean's notes.

The senior hunter had gone through those obituaries with a fine tooth comb and found the death of 3 men in three months. What was confusing him was that Dean had the name of a 13 year old boy circled and linked with the three adults. John wondered what he was thinking. The boy wouldn't have been having an affair. He'd just ask Dean why he had that name circled in the morning. He climbed into bed and went to sleep.

* * *

John had barely gotten to sleep when the alarm sounded. He turned it off, rolled over and was about to get some more shut eye, but someone kept calling his name.

"Time iz it," John slurred.

"It's 6:34," Dean said sounding exasperated. "You slept in," he accused.

4 damn minutes. He suddenly inhaled the strong aroma of caffeine under his nose and he cracked one eye slightly. Dean was standing by the bed, dressed in his boxers and a t-shirt, holding a chipped cup out to his father. John slowly sat up and accepted the cup gratefully. "Can you look over my stuff?" Dean asked excitedly, handing John his notes with the obituaries stacked on top.

Damned if the kid didn't look like it was Christmas morning and he was asking if he could open his presents. His throat suddenly closed and he choked on his coffee, remembering a time long ago when his energetic three year old had bound into his and Mary's room at 3 am, asking if it was time to go downstairs. Mary had laughed gently when John, playing along with Dean, added an excited "can we?" She had explained it was too early and pulled Dean into the bed with them, and said that she would wake him when it was time.

Damned if Dean didn't look like the spitting image of his mother right then, causing John's chest to tighten. Which was ironic considering they weren't related biologically, but it had never mattered. There was so much of Mary in Dean that it hurt to look at him sometimes.

"Dad," Dean prompted after John seemed to space out.

"Jesus, Dean. Give me a minute to wake up, would ya," John ground out forcibly, even though he didn't mean to. He tried to push his emotions back down."

"I'm sorry, sir," Dean apologized instantly as he dropped his folder on the bed, his exuberance wilting.

"Never mind," John replied not looking at his eldest son. He just couldn't right at that moment. "Just get your brother up and get breakfast on, okay?" John rubbed at his forehead and dug his fingers into his eyes. This day couldn't have gotten off to a worse start, even if he had planned it.

"It's done, sir. Sammy ate and he's in the shower. Your breakfast is on the table. Is there anything else you need me to do, sir?"

It was then that John realized he could hear the water running in the bathroom. Strike two. "What time were you up?"

"I woke at around 5, sir. I couldn't sleep, so I did some more work on my file. Sammy woke up around 6, and I gave him Lucky Charms. I made bacon and eggs for you, plus coffee."

The kid sounded a little wired. "Did you drink any coffee?" John inquired.

"Yeah, I had a few cups. I'm a hunter now, and that's what hunters do, right?" That lost kid tone came through loud and clear again.

John smiled. It was a blessing that he still had a part of Mary. He needed to remember that. He put the coffee on the nightstand and grabbed Dean, and play wrestled him to the bed. "Yeah, kiddo, that's what we do."

"Dude, get off me," Dean said starting to fight back. Dean wished he knew how to read his father's moods. He never could figure out how his dad could go from anger to joking in 2.5 seconds.

"Pillow fight," a small voice suddenly called out.

John looked up to see a wet haired Sammy standing in front of him, just before his little darling nailed him in the face with a pillow.

"Bring it," John said letting go of Dean and grabbing his pillow from behind him.

* * *

"Go get dressed and I'll look at your file after I eat, and you and Sam can clean up this mess." There were feathers everywhere. It was a good thing Elvin Birenbaum was footing the bill.

"Sam started it," Dean protested.

"And finished it too," Sam said proudly. His pillow had lasted the longest and he had declared himself the winner. "I shouldn't have to clean up."

"Well, I'm the dad, and those are my rules," John said firmly.

"Can I pick where we stop for lunch then?" Sam requested.

"No way," Dean protested. Sam had picked a salad bar the night before. "I'm still starving from eating rabbit food last night."

"Boys, don't start. We have a busy morning ahead and I want to get on the road soon. Plus, my breakfast is getting cold."

"I can heat it up for you, sir," Dean offered.

"Suck up," Sam mumbled under his breath.

"Shut up!" Dean had heard what Sam said, and he shoved him harder than he intended and Sam fell against the bed.

"Hey!" Sam yelped, more surprised than hurt.

"Knock it off. Dean, if you want to finish this hunt..." John trailed off, his threat clear.

"Sorry, Sammy," Dean said instantly with no real sincerity.

"Now, get to work," John ordered.

John ignored the slam of the bathroom door, and he picked up Dean's file. He found his breakfast on the table, and as he had figured, it was cold. He stuck it into the microwave, even though he knew it would make the eggs rubbery, but since Dean went to the trouble of making it, he figured he had better eat it.

While he was crunching on burnt bacon, he looked over Dean's work and he had to admit that he was impressed. There were a total of five obituaries. Three were the ones he had found, there was one that he realized had missed, and the fifth was the 13 year old boy.

Dean had highlighted one fact on the obits; all the dead had an older brother. Dean's conclusion was that there was a possible spirit, and a note that he needed to do some more research when they got to South Dakota, and could go back further back into the records.

What pattern had Dean found? John had focused on the fact that each man was divorced. He was sure it was a woman in white.

"What do you think?" Dean asked nervously.

"We'll talk in the car," was all John said as he dropped the notes on the table and headed for the bathroom. He didn't see the look of disappointment that flashed across Dean's face, as he became resigned to the fact that he had screwed up again somehow.

------------------

"So tell me what you're thinking, dude?" John asked after they had been on the road for about an hour.

Dean turned his gaze from the window, where he had been silently watching the scenery go by. "I..." Dean said and then hesitated. He glanced into the review mirror and saw Sam's nose buried in a book. He didn't want to do this in front of his brother. Sam probably already thought he was a moron. "I... I think I need to do some more research," he finished dejectedly.

"I want to hear your thoughts," John ordered.

Dean sighed. "Well, all of the victims had an older brother. I thought a spirit might be going after younger brothers for some reason. That's what I want to check out when we get to Bobby's, to see if I can find the death that started everything."

"Interesting," John admitted. "What made you connect that fact?"

"I don't know," Dean admitted honestly. "I saw that there were the deaths of the 4 guys, it said they were divorced, and it seemed strange they had all died so close together. At first I thought maybe woman in white, then I read about that 13 year olds death. It said that he had died from drowning in a pool, but he was on his school swim team. That seemed strange. I took a second look, and found the brother connection."

"Why would someone hurt their brother?" Sam asked from the backseat. He and Dean argued at times, but Sam was certain that Dean would never hurt him. Dean always protected him, a little too much sometimes.

John smiled at his youngest. Of course, that concept would be foreign to his 10 year old. "Some of them aren't as lucky as you, Sammy." With that, John reached over and ruffled Dean's hair.

"Do you think I'm on the right track?' Dean asked eagerly.

"I think we need to check more into this," John said noncommittally. "Just because the boy was a on a swim team doesn't mean he didn't drown, but it's worth further investigation," he added quickly when Dean's smile fell from his face.

* * *

John wished that Dean would put one ounce of the effort he was putting into this hunt into his schoolwork. The kid had worked on it tirelessly since they had arrived at Bobby's just over a week ago.

"Dad, I think I have it," Dean came to him one evening after supper. "Two years ago, there was a 16 year old named Riley Hamilton. He was a star student and athlete. He had everything going for him, but his younger brother, David, was a trouble maker. One day, they were out and there was an accident. Riley fell over a cliff while he and his brother were out trail riding. It was ruled an accident. Maybe it wasn't and he's trying to get justice by going after younger brothers."

John had been conducting his own investigation to go along with Dean. He was able to confirm one man did have an affair, and another man's wife had killed herself after their child had died from sudden infant death syndrome. The third man's wife died of natural causes and the man had remarried. John knew that wasn't an affair, but ghosts did see things in black and white. He was still convinced that they were dealing with a woman in white. "All the other victims were adults," John reminded his son. "If the ghost is Riley's spirit, why is there only one child?" he questioned.

"I don't know," Dean answered honestly.

"You can't go into a hunt without all the answers, Dean. It's a good way to get yourself, or someone else killed."

"I could do more research, I guess," Dean replied half-heartedly. Was there anything he could do right? He'd been on the wrong track this whole time. "It's just that all the pieces fit. The guys that died, all had jobs that were supposed to help people. There was a cop, a doctor, a teacher and a fireman. Maybe the ghost was just mad they didn't help him."

"Good point," John conceded. "But it still doesn't explain the kid."

"I wonder if he was "the good son"," Dean said using air quotes. "Maybe Riley hated that it seemed like a little brother was kind of getting away with it."

"Do you know that?"

"No. I couldn't talk to the families. Maybe you could talk to the Hamilton's and find out if David was dangerous, or threatened Riley. Or maybe we can talk to the Wilson family and find out if there were problems with their son." The Wilson's were the family that had lost their child.

"I don't think we should bother them. Was there anything in the obituaries, or were you just guessing?"

"It's just a guess," Dean admitted. "The obits were pretty vague other than being about the family."

"You can't go based on a guess. You need proof. I did speak to the families of those men, and all the signs point to a woman in white. I'd really rather not bother the families," John said stubbornly. The truth was that he hated talking to parents who had lost children. It was too easy to imagine himself in their shoes.

"But the theory..."

"Is just a theory. I mean, look at all the pieces. A woman in white is the most obvious answer. You shouldn't look for things that aren't there."

"I'm sor..."'

"There's no need to apologize, Dean," John cut him off. "It's your first time. You did good, son."

Dean gave a small smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. _God, he could have gotten them all killed. _"Do you need me to watch Sammy while you go to the cemetery?" Dean mumbled.

"You're coming with me, kiddo."

"But I'm a screw up," Dean protested.

"You made a mistake, son. We all make them. I thought we would go to the cemetery this afternoon. We need to see how close it is to the main road and find out where the woman is buried. I figure since this is a scouting mission, we'll take Sam."

That didn't sit well with Dean at all. Sam was his younger brother. Despite everything, his gut was telling him that Riley and David were somehow connected. He didn't want Sammy anywhere near his case. "No!" Dean said firmly. "Sam's a yo..."

"Younger brother," John snapped. He wasn't used to Dean questioning or disagreeing with him. "We settled this, Dean. It's a woman in white and we aren't actually digging up the corpse."

"But don't you think we should leave Sam at home, just in case..."

"You saying I'm wrong?" John challenged.

"No sir, it's just..."

"You don't trust your old man's judgment."

"Yes sir. I mean I trust you. It's a woman in white," Dean conceded.

"Then go get your brother."

----------------

_**"HELP!" **_A frantic voice called as the double doors to the emergency room burst open.

Nurse Linda Davidson looked upnfrom the coffee maker to see a tall man bound frantically through the doors. He was carrying a small boy who looked about 8 or 9 in his arms. The boy was unconscious with a large amount of blood flowing from his head. His arm, which was resting across his chest, looked like it was at an unnatural angle.

"My boy," the frantic father called. "Help him."

Linda grabbed a stretcher and shouted at someone to page the doctor. "Sir, can you tell me what happened?' She inquired as she tried to take the little boy from the distraught father. She felt his grip tighten. "We're going to do whatever we can to help your son. We need to know what happened. Is he allergic to anything?" she asked gently.

"Help him!" John ordered again.

"Sir, you need to calm down," Linda said firmly. "We'll do everything we can for your boy."

"Sammy's not allergic to anything," a small voice spoke up from the background.

That was when Linda noticed the other boy. She figured they were brothers, but they didn't look much alike. "We'll need to take Sammy to the treatment room, okay?" She looked toward John. "I'll send the doctor out as soon as possible." John reluctantly laid Sam down and the nurse grabbed the gurney and pushed it behind a set of doors.

"Dad, is Sammy gonna be okay?" Dean asked in a scared tone.

"He better be," John warned sternly. "It was your job to watch him. How could you let your brother get hurt?"

"I'm sorry," Dean apologized instinctively. "I don't know... one minute... the ghost... I don't... it went..." Dean sputtered. His breathing was starting to speed up. God, he might have gotten Sammy killed.

"Dean, calm down!" John ordered sharply when Dean started to hyperventilate. "I don't need to deal with you right now. Your brother needs me. I'm gonna call Bobby and tell him to come and get you."

"But I want to be here when Sammy..." Dean started to protest, only to be cut off.

"You think you should be? This is your fault. You were supposed to be watching him."

"I… I'm sorry. I'm a screw up," Dean said forlornly and he sank down heavily and buried his face in his hands.

_This isn't Dean's fault! It's yours, you stubborn bastard! _John's conscience berated him over and over. He had been so convinced he was right that he had dismissed everything Dean was saying.

When they had arrived at the cemetery, John had quickly located the grave of the person he suspected was responsible. He told Dean to watch his little brother and he suddenly felt the temperature drop. He turned around just in time to see Dean pushed out of the way by what appeared to be a big gust of air, and then Sam went flying, head first into the headstone. When John got to him, he saw the name on the grave was Riley Hamilton.

He threw salt at the spirit, briefly wishing he had a better way, grabbed Sam and took off toward the car, speeding to the nearest hospital.

"God, Dean, I'm sorry," John instantly apologized, but Dean hadn't heard him. He just sat in his chair and was rocking back and forth slightly. _No way! This was not happening again! _"DEAN WINCHESTER! SNAP OUT OF IT!" He couldn't let Dean disappear into himself. "Look, I need you."

Dean looked at his father, his eyes watery, as if they were trying to hold back tears. Why wouldn't his father just let him go away, like when his mom had died? It didn't hurt as much, and if Sammy... He couldn't finish that thought and a lone tear made its way down Dean's cheek. "I'm sorry," he said again.

John looked around for help that wasn't there. He felt frustrated that he couldn't be there for both his boys, and as much as he didn't mean to, his frustration and worry poured into his voice. "Damn it, Dean! I need to concentrate on Sammy right now."

"I'm sorry," Dean repeated again. "Go see Sammy. You don't need to worry about me, sir."

"That's my solider," John replied and went to go find someone. He made a quick phone call and Bobby said that he'd be there immediately.

John paced back and forth, wondering where that stupid doctor was. He kept glancing over at Dean. His eldest was pale, but the rocking had stopped. John knew that he was with them because he kept glancing from his father to the doors where the doctors had taken Sammy.

"Johnny!"

"Bobby, thank God," John said gratefully.

"What happened?"

"A ghost at the cemetery..."

"Dean was right, wasn't he?" Bobby couldn't resist the 'I told you so.' A touch of pride was mixed in with worry in Bobby's tone. "I told you, you should have interviewed the Hamilton's and the Wilson's." It was John's one weakness as a hunter. He hated talking to families that had just lost a child. It was something that John avoided at all costs.

"You really want to do this now?" John asked incredulously.

"I..."

"Family of Sam Winchester," another voice called.

"That's me," John said rushing over. "How is he?"

"I'm Dr. Woods, and Sam is going to be just fine," the doctor said.

John, Bobby and Dean all gave a visible sigh of relief. "There was so much blood," John said wanting a further explanation.

"Head wounds often look worse than they are. Sammy has a mild concussion and 3 stitches in the wound. His left arm was broken, but it was a clean break and we have it in a cast. I want to hold him overnight for observation, but you should be able to take him home tomorrow. The nurse is transferring him to a room 212 now, so you can go in and see him shortly."

"Thanks doc," John said and made a break for the door and his youngest son.

"You goin' in, Dean?" Bobby asked worriedly.

"I can't," Dean whispered. "It's my fault he's here. I don't deserve him. I couldn't keep him safe. What if he... Oh God, Bobby, what if he..."

"DEAN!" Bobby said sharply to get Dean's attention. "Listen to me, boy, and listen good. THIS WAS NOT YOUR FAULT!" he said firmly. "Sammy's got the best brother in the world. I know it, Sammy knows it, and even your daddy knows it. People say things they don't mean when they get scared."

"But..."

"No buts. You were right. You hearing me? Your daddy dropped the ball on this one." Bobby instantly wished that he had left that last statement off. Dean didn't take kindly to anyone insulting his father, even if the idjit deserved it.

"He didn't," Dean insisted. "He's the best hunter, Bobby. If he didn't get this one, it's because I let him down. That's what I do."

"No you don't..." That was as far as Bobby got before Dean took off.

"Johnny, I swear one of these days I'm gonna take a shot gun to your ass," Bobby mumbled before taking off after his child.

* * *

_**Present Day.**_

"Bobby reamed me a new one for that," John admitted. "I deserved every word of it. I should have listened to you."

Dean wrote something on his pad. _Why didn't you?_

"What you said made sense. You didn't succeed on that hunt because I didn't want you to." It was hard admitting the truth after all these years. "I made it impossible for you to succeed. It wasn't that I didn't think you were capable," John added quickly. "It was because I didn't want you to. Damn it, I'm not making sense again am I?"

Dean blinked twice. _No._

"I wasn't ready for you to succeed. If I did that, it meant I had to admit that you were growing up, and I didn't want to do that. Which is stupid because I put too much on your shoulders and made you grow up too fast anyway. I didn't want to face the fact that you didn't need me anymore. I'm not sure if you ever did. You took care of me and Sammy, and you did that and you didn't complain. Not once."

Dean just stared, wide-eyed, at his father.

"I'm not possessed, I swear," John said with a smile. "It's nice to be able to take care of you for a change. I just wish it was under different circumstances. That's why I pushed so hard for you to get treatment. I couldn't hack it if something happened, to you or your brother."

Dean picked up his pad again. _Its okay, dad._

"I wish it was," John said sadly. "If I had listened to you, then Sammy would never have gotten hurt. When we started this thing, Dr. Scott told me that you had to be committed to it. I don't want to force you to stay on the vent and have it be the wrong decision. If I had given you a bit of trust back then, everything would have been fine. So now, I trust you to make the decision that's right for you."

Dean stared hard at his father, searching his face for any kind hint that his dad was trying to manipulate him. He saw that his dad looked tired and a little scared, but there was also honestly and sincerity in his eyes.

For the first time since he'd been admitted, Dean felt that he was finally getting a say in his treatment.

"So what's the decision?" Dr. Scott asked as he stepped into the room.

"Do you want the tube out?" John asked.

He did, he really did, but he did not like struggling to breathe. That sucked. He met his father's eyes and blinked twice. _ No. _

"You sure? This is your decision. I swear, kiddo."

One blink. _Yes_.

-------------

Bobby had been fully prepared to burst into Dean's room and give Dr. Scott the papers from Judge Twilson, that now gave him full control over Dean's medical decisions, when Dr. Scott came out smiling and said that Dean had agreed to stay on the vent, and that if he continued to improve, they could start weaning him off it in as little as 48 hours.

Bobby stared at the breach of Dean's trust in his hand, and wondered how John had pulled it off. He would worry about that later. Right now, he needed to go perform a salt and burn of his own. Dean could never know of this documents existence.

TBC

Please leave my muse a review. He's threatening to leave if he doesn't get attention.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Disclaimer: I still don't own

"When do I get this out?" A weak, raspy, muffled voice asked, as an IV encumbered hand pointed at the plastic tube protruding out of his stomach.

"Hopefully..."

"Soon," Dean mumbled and sighed deeply. He doubted anyone heard it behind the piece of green plastic that was molded around his mouth and nose. He was getting sick of that answer.

"Soon," Dr. Scott supplied, confirming Dean's suspicions that he wasn't heard, as he finished changing out the bag that was delivering a constant supply of nutrition into Dean's body.

Dean's left hand drifted up to his face and he pulled the mask down, attempting to angle it, so that he could still feel the flow of the cool air on his mouth.

"Dean," Sam said in a light, admonishing tone, from his place by Dean's bedside. His eyes drifted to Dean's monitors and he reached for the mask, intending to put it back where it was supposed to be, only to feel a light tap as Dean tried to push it away.

"Want it out," Dean said trying to sound firm, but hating the way his voice came out in a whisper. Damn stupid hospitals and their damn stupid ET tubes. He grimaced as it felt like he was trying to talk through ground glass.

"Look at it this way," Dr. Scott replied. "If it hurts that much to talk, think of how much it's going to hurt to try and swallow. I highly doubt you feel up to eating right now." Dean shrugged. That was true. The prospect of eating was not high on his list right now, but he was getting tired of the tubes, especially the ones in unmentionable places. "It will help you get stronger, quicker, and get out of here sooner," he added the usual line that usually seemed to placate Dean.

Dean shrugged again and rolled his eyes, clearly communicating that he appreciated the effort but had stopped believing that. Sam felt his temper grow and before he realized it, the word "liar," tumbled from his lips. It wasn't said at full volume, but Sam's voice wasn't hindered by an oxygen mask, or weak from just coming off a ventilator, and both Dean and Dr. Scott heard him loud and clear.

"Dean, Cindy should be in shortly to prep you for your bone marrow aspiration," Dr. Scott said.

"Swell," Dean muttered, but he didn't protest as Dr. Scott lifted the mask and replaced it over his mouth and nose.

"Well, yacht payment's due…oops did I say that out loud?" He was pleased when Dean grinned, but he didn't fail to notice that Sam's scowl deepened, and the smirk fell from Dean's lips. His patient's hand started to make its way toward the mask again.

Dr. Scott had had a chance to observe the brothers over the last few weeks, and he hadn't failed to notice that Dean's mood was often tied to Sam's. If his younger brother felt the feeding tube wasn't helping Dean, then that was exactly what Dean was going to ask for once he had the mask off again. He wondered if Sam knew exactly what kind of power he held over his brother. It wasn't the first time he had wondered what these two had gone through in their lives that made Dean want to cater to his brother's every whim. In his mind, having that kind of power over someone was a little scary, as it could be used for good, but also be used to cause harm. Right now, that was exactly what Sam was doing without even realizing it. As much as he knew that Dean hated all the tubes he was attached to, every one of them was necessary, but as much as he preferred not to remove any of them at this time, there was one he could offer to get rid of that wouldn't hurt Dean or set back his recovery.

"How about we make a deal?" he offered.

That didn't stop the progress of Dean's hand. He reached and lifted the mask but didn't pull it completely down. He just lifted it up, so he could be heard over the hiss of oxygen without having to raise his voice. His throat felt like it was on fire. "No bone… test?" He dropped the mask back in place on his own.

"We need to do that one," Dr Scott said in a sincere, apologetic tone. "I'll remove the Foley…"

"Hell yes!" Dean said as loudly as he could, which was too much for his poor abused throat, and he visibly grimaced.

"There are a few conditions you need to agree to," Dr. Scott added quickly. "First, you are not to get out of bed unless there is a doctor or nurse in the room. Let's forget for a moment that you're still hard-wired to a lot of machines, you haven't been out of bed in weeks. If you have to use the bathroom, and can't wait for one to come in the room, then you use the urinal or bed pan. If not, the Foley goes back. Deal? You can just nod, if you agree. You shouldn't be talking."

Dean nodded quickly. He probably would have agreed to have the vent put back if it meant getting the pee tube out. He hated those worst of all, especially the care and cleaning that they required. It was just downright embarrassing.

"Okay, Cindy will be here in a few minutes, and I'll leave instructions with her to remove it. Sam, I'll need you to step out of the room for a bit and give them some privacy."

"I want…"

"No… watching," Dean rasped.

"No talking," Dr. Scott reminded Dean. "I'll also leave orders for Cindy to give you some numbing spray for your throat."

"I'll be back," Sam promised as he followed Dr. Scott out the door.

There was part of Sam that wanted to sit by Dean's side, but lately, it seemed that the walls were closing in on him every time he sat with his brother. He found the protective clothing really constricting. If this was affecting him so badly, he could only image what Dean was feeling, given the fact that he had claustrophobia. _Although, it shouldn't have been surprising that Dean wasn't reacting, because he had been barely conscious these last few weeks, he thought bitterly._ He ripped the mask off his face and felt the need to hit someone or something, but he could feel Dean's eyes on him through the window of the isolation unit. As pissed off as he was feeling, he didn't want to upset Dean.

"Sam, what's going on?" Dr. Scott asked the distraught young man as soon as he had his own mask off.

"Nothing," he insisted as he sat down, ripped off his gloves and pulled the plastic booties off his shoes. He slammed them into the garbage.

"I can see that," Dr. Scott remarked.

"Aren't you just a ball of laughs," Sam ground out and he untied the strings on the gown that was covering his clothes. He missed one and ripped off the covering so hard that it tore.

"Sam, stop," the doctor said firmly. Through the window, he could clearly see Dean watching them. If he had to guess, he would say his pager was going to go off with the news that Dean's blood pressure was on the rise. "Dean's watching you. We are trying to keep his stress levels down. Him watching you get upset and not being able to do anything about it isn't going to help that."

"Well, neither is lying to him," Sam said finally unable to hold back.

"Lying," Dr. Scott answered, clearly confused. "I'm not lying to him."

"You keep telling him all that crap is going to help him. The feeding tube, the vent, the chest catheter, and theFoley is all supposed to heal him. Make him well again, faster. It's not. He's been in that room for over a month now and he's no closer to getting better now than he was then. We both know that feeding tube isn't going anywhere anytime soon. Why keep getting his hopes up?"

"Sam, it may not seem like it, but he is making progress. He's off the vent, isn't he?"

"But his O2 stats are barely holding and you still have the vent in his room. You only took him off it because he spent more time fighting it than letting it help him."

"Is that what you really think?"

"Yes," Sam admitted honestly.

"It's not true. I spent days fighting with him, trying to convince him not to have it removed. Why would you think that I would remove it before he was ready after he finally did agree to leave it in?"

Sam did have to think about that one. He knew that his father and Dean had cleared the air about something and whatever it was, John hadn't felt the need to elaborate, and it had made Dean agree to the vent. His brother had tried and, whenever he was awake, he tried to relax and breathe with the rhythm of the machine, but he found it difficult and he had been sedated for much of the last five days, when Dr. Scott had finally said that he was removing it. Both Bobby and his father had been ecstatic, but Sam realized that this was when he started feeling like the doctor wasn't telling them the truth.

"I need to get Dean's orders to Cindy and prep for his bone marrow aspiration, but we need to talk, Sam. Will you give me about a half hour and meet me in my office?"

"Fine, whatever," Sam huffed and he slammed his way out of the anteroom and into the hall.

To say that Sam was not in a good mood when he arrived at Dr. Scott's office was putting it mildly. His father had shown up just before Dean's bone marrow test. He was the only one that Dean liked in the room when they were being done. Despite the fact that they were being done every week, it still didn't make it any easier for Dean to endure. Sam could hear his grunts of pain from the anteroom and he desperately wanted to go and offer Dean any kind of comfort, but there was nothing he could do. It really didn't help matters when after the test was completed, Dr. Scott ordered another transfusion.

"Do you want any coffee?" Dr. Scott offered when Sam stormed into his office.

"I just want answers."

"I've never held anything back about Dean's condition, why do you think I'm doing it now? It's more than just the stuff with the vent, isn't it?"

"I met the wife of one of your other patients. It was last week. I was in the elevator on the way to visit Dean and she was going to see her husband. He was having a bone marrow transplant too. She told me that it was going really good and that he's getting out of isolation next week, and probably going home in a couple of weeks. Dean's been in isolation for 5 weeks, in the hospital three weeks before that and so far, there is no end in sight."

"The average stint in iso…"

"Is 4 to 6 weeks. I know that."

"They're…"

"Averages. I know that too."

"Sam, I wish I could give you a guarantee, but medic…."

"Is not an exact science. Can we please skip the clichés?"

"Okay, I have not lied to you or Dean about his condition. Let me finish okay," Dr. Scott held up his hand to stop Sam's protest. "I was expecting Dean to be on the vent for at least another week, maybe two, but he weaned himself off it in five days. There is no medical reason why Dean can't eat right now, but it's better to use the G-Tube because his throat is probably raw from the ET tube, and he's not going to be able to eat much at first, and this will give him the calories he needs to keep fighting. "

"Why all the transfusions then? Why all the extra IV's?"

"If you did half the research I think you did, then you know the answer to those questions. Transfusions help keep Dean's counts up while his body manufactures its own cells. The IV's are fluids to help his kidneys since the antibiotics are hard on them. I had them remove the Foley because Dean really doesn't need it anymore. He just needs to make sure that someone helps him more because of the machinery he's still attached to. He'll be working with a physical therapist in the next day or two to help him get out of bed. I think there's more than going on, Sam. Something else is bugging you, more than your brother's tubes. What's really going on?"

"The woman's husband never had any of the complications Dean did."

"I can't discuss the specifics of another case, but I think I know who you are talking about. Yes, that case went off without a hitch. It was textbook, but Sam, you know you can't compare Dean's case to anyone else. No two are alike."

"That man's bone marrow came from his brother," Sam blurted out. "I was Dean's donor and…" he trailed off.

"You're not biologically related. You're asking yourself if Dean's marrow came from a related donor, would his case have gone as smoothly. I can't answer that question. There's no way to know how Dean would have reacted to someone else's bone marrow, but statistics show there is no significant differences between success cases with related and unrelated donors."

"But related donors do show a higher success rate," Sam pointed out.

"Slightly, but I've had cases where the recipient rejected the marrow of a related donor an hour after it was infused, and I've had unrelated ones go as smoothly as the case your referring to. Don't judge your brother's progress against statistics or averages, or other case studies. I get the feeling that he's never been one to go by them in his life. Why expect him to start now?"

A small smile graced Sam's lips before he could help himself. That was so true.

"Dean is making progress, even if it is slow. He's fighting hard, Sam." What Dr. Scott didn't say out loud was that he felt the biggest reason for Dean's progress was the very fact that he had Sam's bone marrow, and would feel as if he had disappointed his brother if he didn't get well. He didn't know the Colt brothers that well, and would never make that thought known, despite the fact that his gut was telling him it was true. He would have bet a year's salary on it.

"I am planning on starting him on a liquid diet in a day or two, as soon as his throat gets a chance to heal. I just didn't say anything because..."

"The threat of hospital food might cause a setback," Sam quipped.

It was the doctor's turn to smile. "I guess I need some new material. I wish I could give you the answer you want to hear, Sam, but all you can do is what you have been doing. Be with your brother and remind him of all the things he has going for him. Give him even more incentive to get out of here."

"I'll keep in mind what you said." He was feeling a bit lighter, but part of him still couldn't see past the wires.

"Sam, I know this is none of my business, but talking to your father may help. He told me about the time Dean was born. He's been in this position before."

_Talk to his dad, yeah right. _"I'll consider it," he lied. "I'm going to go sit with my brother now."

Sam took the elevator directly to the Oncology floor where the isolation units were held. He entered Dean's and went to the sink, grabbed a soap packet and started scrubbing up, getting ready to go back to Dean's room. He tapped lightly on window to let his dad know that he was here. Dean didn't stir, which meant he was probably asleep. Again_! Yeah, right. The doctor sure wasn't lying about Dean getting better, Sam though sarcastically._ His temper getting the better of him again, Sam suddenly flung the soap he had been scrubbing his hands with against the wall. He really wanted to hit something.

"Sammy," a gentle voice said from behind him.

"What?" He huffed.

"Everything okay?"

"Everything is just peachy keen. I get to cover myself in plastic just to sit and watch my brother sleep."

"Actually, you don't. Not with that attitude."

If looks could kill, John Winchester would have dropped dead on the spot. "Stop trying to tell me what to do."

"You're angry at something. Anyone can see that, kiddo. I don't want…"

"I really don't care what you want. I never have and I sure as hell ain't gonna start now."

John's temper instantly flared. "How da… No! I'm not going to do this now. Us fighting is the last thing your brother needs, along with your attitude. "

"Scr…"

"Enough Samuel! Heaven help us if you want me to be the calm one here," John replied trying to lighten the mood, unfortunately it just made Sam angrier.

"Why is everyone treating this as something funny? You, Dr. Scott, Cindy you're, all cracking jokes like this some big, freaking game. Yeah, my brother is fighting for his life. That's so freaking hilarious."

"Nobody thinks this is funny, Sammy. Dean…"

"ISN'T GETTING BETTER! He's just lying there and…"

"Are you mad at your brother?" John asked his tone neutral.

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm not mad at Dean. Why the hell would I be mad at my brother? None of this is his fault."

"Because he's still sick," John said calmly.

"He can't help it," Sam reminded his father.

"No, he can't," John agreed. "But he's your big brother. "

"_**SHUT UP! OKAY, JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!" **_Sam yelled, as his temper finally exploded.

John didn't say anything then. He just closed the gap and pulled Sam into a tight bear hug. It actually felt good to be able to physically comfort one of his sons. Contact with Dean wasn't allowed. "It's all right, Sammy." John said soothingly.

Sam struggled, trying half-heartedly to get out of his father's grip. "Let me go!" he insisted.

"No. Not until you calm down."

"I AM CALM!"

"Why are you mad at Dean, Sammy?"

"SCREW YOU! He's not getting better. He's supposed to get better. He's supposed…"

"To defy every single odd and cut recovery time in half, because he's Dean and he's your big brother."

"He has to. Why isn't he well? Why does all this crap happen to him? He… HE'S NOT BETTER! I AM SO…"

"It's okay, son."

"NO! Don't you get that? It's not okay. I'm furious at my brother, who's sick. How pathetic is that? How is that okay?"

"Because it's not really Dean you're angry at. You're angry because you can't do anything to change the situation," John said calmly and knowingly. He had felt all these same emotions and knew exactly what Sam was going through and for once, he refused to rise to the bait and lose his temper, which is what Sam wanted him to do.

"So what are you a psychologist now?" Sam accused.

"Definitely not," John agreed. "But I did talk to one."

"When?" Sam asked in disbelief. His dad had always felt that psychologists were quacks.

"Before the adoption. It was required by social services. We were looking to adopt a kid that might have been looking at long term medical issues. They wanted to make sure we knew what we were getting into."

"Dean doesn't have any issues," Sam pointed out.

"We didn't know that at the time. He did have heart problems until he was four. Sit down a minute, kiddo." John said as he removed his arms from Sam's shoulders. John reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, opened it and removed a picture.

"This is a picture of the first time I held Dean," John said handing it over. "Do things look familiar."

Sam accepted the small photograph John was holding. It was bent from years of being handled, but Sam could see his father, dressed with a paper gown over his clothes and gloves on, holding a very small baby, who was hooked up to so many tubes and wires you could barely see him.

"Most babies can roll over on their own at two months and they start to sit up at 5 months. When Dean was two months old, he still couldn't breathe on his own. At five months, he was back in the hospital with a lung infection. We had to learn to measure milestones in a different way. Dean's first unassisted breathe in the place of rolling over. Getting to hold him, tube free, was as exciting a time as the day you were born. It's the same thing here, son. Don't look at what progress Dean hasn't made, look at what he has done. He is on oxygen, but he is breathing on his own. He's getting out of bed tomorrow with the help of the physical therapist. He's making progress."

"But he's still sleeping about 15 hours a day. That's not progress."

"It is when you consider a couple of weeks ago, he was barely awake for 3 or 4 hours out of the whole day. Now, he's awake about 3 hours at a time. This week he's had 2 transfusions. Last week he had four. As hard as it is to do, in this situation you need to look at Dean's progress in inches, not feet. This isn't something he can bounce back from easily. I get your feelings, Sam. I know you're mad and I'm not going to tell you not to be. I'm mad too. Mad that I can't do anything but sit beside his bed."

"That's all Dean would want from you," Sam said. That's all Dean had ever wanted from their dad.

"I know, but it's still doesn't seem like enough, does it," John said trying to make his point.

Sam totally understood what John was saying, he just didn't want to say that John was right out loud. He was a Winchester after all.

"Think about what I said. I'm going to the hotel. Bobby's looking for an apartment or a house to rent. Dr. Scott said that he wouldn't even consider releasing Dean to a hotel room."

"But he's…"

"He's going to come home. We need a place to go. Just remember, Sammy, sometimes things don't go the way we expect them to."

Sam watched as John walked out the door. He scrubbed up, then donned the protective coverings and sat by Dean's bed. While he was flipping through a magazine, waiting for Dean to wake up, Sam was suddenly overwhelmed with memories of his brother. Surprisingly, one of the most vivid was a trip to a flower garden of all places.

_**1998**_

"No way, you can't be serious," a 19 year old Dean said to his father in disbelief.

"I am serious, and watch the tone, dude," John admonished lightly. He wasn't really angry; after all, if you promise a 19 year old a special trip for graduation and then tell him you were going to visit a flower garden, you couldn't exactly be surprised that he wouldn't welcome the idea with open arms.

"We're in Cleveland, dad," Dean pointed out, thinking his meaning should be obvious.

"Your point?" John wondered, clearly confused.

"Cleveland!" Dean emphasized. "The Rock and Roll hall of Fame. The Indians are playing the Yankees this week. We could catch a game. I think the Browns might be at home. We could go see them play. "

"Yeah dad!" 15 year old Sam couldn't keep quiet anymore. Neither, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame nor sports stadiums were high on his list of fun things to do, but this was Dean's graduation gift, and there were so many other interesting places they could visit. The Cleveland Botanical Gardens was not even registering on his list either. "I want to visit the Walter G. Mather Science Museum or the natural history museum. Flowers are totally boring."

"I agree. There is way more stuff to do here than stupid flowers," Dean argued.

"Don't knock it until you try it. When you were a kid, you wouldn't eat cheeseburgers," John informed his eldest.

"Seriously?" Sam asked incredulously. Unless their father made Dean order something healthy, it was all Dean ate.

"Practically had to stuff them down his throat," John replied.

Dean just scowled. "You're making that up."

"Nope, it's true."

"It's my graduation gift. Why can't I pick where we go?" Dean asked a slight whine in his voice. It was so rare they did something as a family, but flowers. "You didn't have girls."

"The way you two are bitching, I may as well have," John quipped. "I know that. Just trust your old man on this one, okay? Both of you," he added glancing in the rearview mirror where his youngest looked like he was about to protest again.

Sam huffed and crossed his arms, and Dean scowled deeper and looked out the window. "Make you guys a bet?" John offered. "If you guys like the place, you can't bitch at me for a week about anything. You don't and I'll drive you to anywhere you want to go."

"Anywhere?" Dean asked in disbelief. "What if I want to go to Arizona and see the Grand Canyon? And then Sammy wants to go to California and visit Tinkerbelle at Disney world."

"Shut up, Dean!"

"Don't knock Tink, dude. She's hot," John said glancing in the rear-view mirror with a wink.

"I want to go…"

"Someplace totally boring," Dean teased.

"DAD!"

"Dean, stop teasing your brother or I'll make you wait in the car," John said without thinking.

"Promise?" Dean said eager at the thought that he might have found a way out of looking at flowers.

"No. The first place we go that interests you."

"That's not fair."

"I don't have to be. I'm the father," John said and he saw Sam stick his tongue out at Dean. He was tempted to reprimand his youngest, but the mood was so light that John just couldn't bring himself to destroy it.

"Keep it up Sammy, and I'll throw you into a cactus," Dean said in a mock threatening tone.

"We're in Cleveland, they don't have cactus's, dummy," Sam threw out without thinking.

_Playtime's over!_ "SAMUEL!" John ground out sharply.

"Oh my God! Dean, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it," Sam said sincerely when he realized exactly what he had said.

The tension of Sam's words enveloped Dean immediately, he slumped in his seat and his jaw hardened. "Fine," he ground out in a tone that said it was anything but.

"'M sorry," Sam said again. "I didn't mean it, Dean."

"Just shut up," Dean said forcibly.

"I'm…"

"Both of you, enough," John cut in. "We have a full day planned. I don't want you two fighting and besides, Dean's right, Sam. They do have a tropical exhibit and they do have cacti."

"You were there, dad?" Dean asked in surprise.

"Yeah," John said vaguely, not wanting to tell them the whole story about the meaning behind the place just yet. "I'm hungry. You boys want to stop or do a drive through? You guys can let me know if we have a deal," John said changing the subject. He heard Sam voice his opinion for a diner, Dean just said he didn't care, which told John that Sam's comment still stung, despite the fact that both brothers knew that Sam hadn't meant what he said. John just hoped that if he ignored it, Dean would let it drop. He had to know that his father and brother didn't think he was a dummy. Instead he let his thoughts dwell on their destination. He had fully meant what he said about taking the boys anywhere they want to go if they didn't enjoy what he had planned. There was no way they wouldn't enjoy their trip to the garden, despite their protests. There was one other piece of information that he hadn't shared with the boys yet. Why the Cleveland Botanical Gardens were so important to him. It was where he and Mary had spent their honeymoon.

The place hadn't changed much over the years. When Mary had suggested this place for their honeymoon, John had felt the exact same way his boys did. Honeymoons were supposed to be romantic getaways to exotic locales, like Tahiti or Fiji, not Cleveland. Not to mention it was killing John's pride that he couldn't afford to give Mary a proper honeymoon.

Mary, bless her heart, had said that she would have chosen Cleveland anyway, no matter how much money they had. John had been amazed at what he had found there. He visited the gardens once a year since Mary had died, usually on their anniversary. It had been his way of staying close to Mary, but the gardens also had their own appeal. He could understand why Mary loved it. There was just something magical about the place. It was mostly just flowers, but the atmosphere made one feel calm and at peace. It was almost as if nothing bad would dare disturb the beauty of this place.

It was a good thing nobody could read his mind, because it was laughable that a big, tough marine could be so drawn to something so girly, but he was. Every year, like clockwork.

"Hey dad," Dean's voice cut into John's thoughts. "This place may not be so bad."

John glanced over to his son and saw him eyeing a group of young woman exiting the car next to theirs. One of the girls saw Dean looking at her. She blushed and looked at her friend and they put their heads together, giggled and then started walking toward the entrance.

"I'll meet you back here in a couple of hours," Dean said as he started to follow them.

"Freeze dude," John said, stopping him before he got too far. "I need you to look after Sam." Dean groaned silently. Sam was old enough to look after himself for a while. Try convincing his father of

that, though.

"I can take..."

"Care of yourself. Yeah, I get that, Sammy, but I'm the dad. Don't tell me it's not fair," John said cutting off the next protest from both his sons. "I want you to give me about a half hour and then meet me by the Hershey's Children's garden. "

"Daaaad," Dean groaned. "It's bad enough we gotta be here, but now you want us to spend time in children's section?"

"Do I have to remind you…"

"You're the dad," Dean groaned. "Fine. Come on, Sammy. Let's go see if we can find something to do that isn't going to bore us to death."

John just rolled his eyes and led his kids toward the entrance, where Horace Finkler's credit card paid for three admission tickets. (That was, the last time he was allowing Dean to fill out the application forms on the credit card scams.)

"I can't believe they actually make you pay to get in here," Dean lamented.

"Dude, enough," John snapped more harshly then he intended. Dean didn't know the reason they were here. "You two behave yourselves."

"Deeeannn," Sam all but whined. "I want to go see the Western Reserve Herb Society Garden. It's the closest thing to history they have here. I don't want to follow some girl you have no chance of landing." Sam wasn't all that enamored about looking at plants, but the sign by the exhibit said something about explaining how the herbs were used thought history. Boring, but at least educational.

"I'm in charge," Dean said firmly. "Dad said so."

"Why do we have to do everything you want to?"

"Shut up, Sammy. I'm the oldest, so I'm always right. Now hurry up, slow poke,"

"Yeah, well, dad's going never going to let you go out tonight anyway. We're headed toward Blue Earth, to go see Pastor Jim."

"Well if you didn't piss him off all the time, he might let you do stuff," Dean snapped. "Come on. We're going to lose them."

"No!"

"Sammy."

"I'm going to the Herb Garden. You don't have to come."

"You're supposed to stay with me, Sammy. Dad doesn't let…"

"Yeah, I know that, but if I show up at the children's garden without you, who do you think is going to get in trouble for losing me. I'll give you a hint. It isn't me," Sam said smugly.

"You wouldn't?" Dean challenged. He couldn't deny Sam's words. "We always do what you want."

"I don't want to follow two air heads. You can come with me or you can stay here. Your choice."

"Fine," Dean huffed, as he gave one last longing glance at the girls who were headed toward the Japanese gardens and he reluctantly followed Sam, wondering how he could kick Sam's ass and get away with it. It wasn't fair.

"Can we leave now?" Dean pleaded as he stepped into the Hershey's children's park and spotted their father sitting on a bench.

"I want to go too," Sam agreed. The herb garden was every bit as boring as he had thought it would be. The only interesting thing he had learned was that herbs and spices were used because back in the days before refrigeration, meat was often rotten and the spices covered the taste. Other than that, Sam couldn't wait to leave. He couldn't wait to work that in there somewhere about his father's cooking.

"Not yet," John said to twin groans of displeasure. "I need to show you something," John said as he led both boys over to an area where perennials were growing, and people were planting flowers. "I just wanted to make sure it was still here."

"Great, more flowers," Sam said sarcastically. This was worse than herbs.

"I think you both will like this one. See these flowers here?"

Before him were four plants that were about two feet high and a yellowish white in color. "They're calla lilies," John explained.

"Are you a horticulturalist now?" Dean asked. "What?" he exclaimed when he felt John and Sam staring at him? He felt his anger grow. "I'm not an id…"

"I know that, Dean-o," John said cutting him off before he could go down that line of though. "Nobody thinks you are. I know what they are because they were your mother's favorite flower."

"Really?" Sam asked in surprise. It was like pulling teeth to get their father to talk about their mother. Dean went silent, as he always did when Mary's name was mentioned.

"Yeah. They're perennials and they bloom every year. They usually have a life span of about 5 years, but these have bloomed for the last 20 years."

"Really," Sam asked again. He was eager for more news. "How do you know that?"

"Because I was here when your mom planted them. This is where we spent our honeymoon."

"Awesome," Sam said again as he looked around the gardens with a new eye. He was starting to see the beauty in the place. It couldn't be that bad if their mom liked it here. "Isn't that cool, Dean. Mom planted them."

"She even named them," John replied. "Their names are John, Mary, James Dean, and Sam."

"Why did she have Dean's full name? Why don't ours? Why did mom like Calla lilies? What else did she like? Please dad, tells us?" Sam fired questions rapidly. He knew next to nothing about their mom.

"You know why we chose James Dean, but if our first child was a girl her name was going to be Samantha Frances. Technically, the flowers represented the names of our first child, but she just used Sam in case we had more than one, since it could be a boy or a girl."

Sam fully expected Dean to tease him about having a girl's name, but his mind seemed to be a million miles away. He watched as his older brother slowly reached out a hand and fingered the flower that was named after him, delicately as if he was afraid it might break.

"Dad," Sam prompted him to continue, but he was watching Dean closely. "Oh, she liked the colors and the way they bloomed every year. I would give them to her on her birthday every year."

"I remember," said a very low, shaky voice. "Mom always had them on the table in the dining room. She…"

"You okay, dude?" John said, a little worriedly.

Dean swallowed. "Yeah," he lied. He let go of his flower and touched Mary's with an even gentler hand. "She would bring one to my room to cheer me up if I was sick, along with some tomato rice soup."

Sam opened his mouth to ask more, but John glared at him and shook his head slightly. He didn't want Sam interrupting Dean's train of thought. "She always could make me feel better. I remember one time; I woke up during a thunder storm. I didn't want to go back to bed, but mom told me that the thunder was angels bowling, and that the lightening was them taking pictures. Then she brought me a flower as proof that there were angels watching over me, because they would never let anything bad happen to something that was so beautiful and delicate."

John wondered if Dean knew that Mary had been talking about him, not the flower, but he didn't interrupt. He had a feeling that if he didn't, Dean would continue.

"Then she sang Hey Jude to help me get back to sleep. She'd sing that to you too, Sammy."

Dean let go of his mother's flower. "I just wish… I mean… I..."

"Hey, buddy," John cut Dean off when his eyes misted up. "Come here," he laid an arm over Dean's shoulder and led him to a bench. Dean leaned into his dad and Sam and John watched in concern as Dean tried to keep the tears at bay. "I miss her too," John whispered softly. "Do you want to leave?" he offered, wondering if he had done the right thing. Dean shook his head, and took a few deep breaths. One lone tear slipped down his cheek. Dean swiped at his face, embarrassed. "I'm okay. Can I… Can I just be by myself for awhile? Can you look after Sam?"

"Yeah, dude. Just meet back here in about an hour, okay."

"Thanks," Dean took off quickly, like he was afraid that John would change his mind at any time.

John saw his youngest track his elder brother's exit from the children's garden. "I'll trust you. You can go off on your own for a bit, but you have to leave your brother alone. Just let him be for a while, okay?"

"Um," Sam said hesitantly and he reached out and fingered his flower and his mother's. "Can you tell me more about mom?"

John smiled and ruffled his son's hair. As much as it hurt to talk about Mary, this place had always seemed to take some of the hurt away, and it seemed that Mary was working her magic again, as Sam and John had their first conversation that didn't turn into a fight in a long time.

A half hour later, Sam felt totally at peace and he was really beginning to understand the appeal of the place that his father had. He began to see the beauty and feel that sense of peace his father had mentioned. He just hoped that wherever Dean was, he was feeling it too. He was probably behind some bush with the girls he'd been tailing earlier though, Sam thought to himself in amusement.

He had been surprised to find his wayward brother when he wondered into the Elizabeth and Nona Evan's Restorative Gardens, and found Dean sitting on a bench by the reflective pool. It was very tranquil and according to the sign, had been designed by four of the nation's top therapeutic designers. It was actually one of the nicest places Sam had seen. He really wanted to sit with Dean for a while but he had promised his father. Reluctantly, turning to leave, Sam heard his brother call him.

"You can stay," Dean said shifting over and making room.

"You sure?"

"Yeah," Dean said with a small smile. The magic of the Cleveland Gardens was working its spell on him as well. His memories of his mom were all on his mind, but after the initial period of grief, he felt himself welcoming them. "Did you know that I wanted to name you Impala Winchester?"

"Seriously?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Mom talked me out of it. Convinced me that you were a Sammy, instead. Although, I think Samantha would have suited you better."

"Shut up, jerk," Sam said good naturedly. He didn't mind the teasing.

"Yeah, bitch. I remember how excited I was when I found out I was going to have a brother. Mom loved you, Sammy."

"She loved you too, Dean."

"I know," Dean confirmed. "I got to hear her say it, a lot. She said it to you too. I wish you could remember."

"Me too," Sam said wishfully.

"She was the best mother, Sammy. You would have loved her. She could always make us feel better when we were sad. She had a great laugh, and she smelled like lilies. Dad would use any excuse to buy her some because she always smiled when he did. She gave great hugs, and made a mean chocolate milk shake and chocolate chip cookies from scratch. She had this old blanket that she said belonged to her grandmother that she loved to wrap herself up in on cold nights. She made us hot chocolate. Real hot chocolate, Sammy, with milk and whip cream. Not the powered stuff. She didn't like marshmallows in her hot chocolate either, but Dad liked the mini-fruit flavored ones. Mom used to tease him about that."

"Thanks for sharing that, Dean," Sam said sincerely.

"That's all I remember," Dean said sadly. "It's like a blur sometimes. Like I think I know it, but some stuff I'm not sure is true. I forgot about the lilies until I came here."

"You were only four," Sam reminded him. "I know you're going to tease me forever for this, but I don't care. You remember mom's love, that's what's most important. "

Sam was a little surprised when Dean didn't tease him but he gave a sad smile. "She had a lot of that," Dean said as he stared at his hands as if there were the most fascinating things on the planet. He looked at Sam and the younger Winchester could tell that Dean was debating with himself about whether to say more. "I remember mom's love with my heart."

"What was that?" Sam asked a little confused.

Dean grinned. It was a true grin that reached his eyes. "Mom told me that my first day of daycare. I was sca… nervous that she would forget to com… that she would forget me… I mean… she told me that she would never do that because there were two ways to remember things. With our heads and with our hearts. She said once you remembered something with your heart it was impossible to forget. There she was at 2:00pm sharp to get me. Yes Sammy, we had a great mom. She was definitely the best." Sam watched as Dean gave a little shake of his head, like he was putting the memories back behind their concrete walls. He threw Sam a grin. "I'm going to go check out the theme gardens. Want to come."

"Sure," Sam said eagerly. He hoped that Dean would continue to talk about their mom, but he changed the subject and Sam didn't push. When they walked into the theme garden and found a display on desert plants. He looked at Sammy with an evil grin and pointed. "Look Sammy, cacti."

Sam couldn't help but laugh. Yeah, he couldn't judge something by what was on the outside. The Cleveland Botanical Gardens may not sound like a place he would ever want to set foot near, but now he didn't want to leave. He was definitely coming back. Sam didn't know it, but Dean was having identical thoughts. Their mom was in Heaven, and both brothers felt closer to her than they had in a long time.

When John went to take one last look at the flowers his beloved Mary had planted, he found two new ones there that the caretaker had said his boys planted. He felt lighter than he had in a long time as he reached over and touched the name markers, Mom and Impala. He laughed and was in such a good mood, he could even bring himself to say "I told you so to his sons."

The ride to Pastor Jim was even peaceful, with no arguments or hurt feelings. Yes, to the Winchesters, the Cleveland Botanical Gardens were magical, and their Garden of Eden. It was a place their family was together.

"Sammy… Earth to Sammy."

Sam looked over at his brother. "When did you wake?" he asked.

"About 10 minutes ago. You were in never never land."

"Pretty close. Hey, Dean, when you get better, I think we need to plan a trip."

"Bunny ranch," Dean joked.

"No I was thinking we need to take a trip to Cleveland."

TBC

I goggled the Cleveland Botanical Gardens and the places Sam and Dean mention were real.

I hope you liked it, please leave a review and let me know.


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